The Dreams in Which I'm Dying
by StellaLost
Summary: The team grapples with one of those cases that seem to bring out the worst in everyone. Epilogue:Closing the circle of pain and picking up the pieces. Rated T:for dark/suicidal thoughts & language, Rated:M for Ch 8 SLASH! in last two chapters
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've been lurking the Hawaii five-0 fandom for the past two months, and I find myself completely in awe of the fabulous authors out there. I really have no idea why I thought I could write fanfic for this fandom, but when the muses start beating the living crap out of me, both during my waking and sleeping hours who am I to argue. This is in fact my first fanfic ever and would appreciate constructive criticism, as I am quite sure it is not on par with everyone else's. It is also un-betaed, so all mistakes and glaring errors would fall directly on me. Title is from the song "Mad World" as sung by Gary Jules.

This is a multi-chapter story and explores some serious angsty themes and the dark nooks and crannies that can be found in Steve McGarrett's mind. Thank you for reading. ~stella

Disclaimer: No money or profit of any sort was made from this story. The characters and persons within belong entirely to CBS. If I owned them, I wouldn't have time to write stories.

**Chapter 1: Worn Out Places, Worn Out Faces**

The harsh glare from the desk lamp was starting to weaken as it was becoming saturated with the pre-dawn light from the open draped windows of the office. Steve looked with exhausted eyes at the remains of the pen scattered on his normally tidy desk. Bits of plastic and metal lay strewn across the open folders and peeked out from beneath the loose papers of the case he had come to call 'Hell'. He felt a fool for resorting to the childish act of destroying an inanimate object, but wasn't that what he had learned in the Navy; to squelch out those weaker in strength and smaller in their thinking than himself. Nothing could be done now for his act of violence, besides cleaning up the mess, yet he couldn't make his muscles move.

Closing his eyes to the wreckage wouldn't help either. He knows this because when he had tried that very act sometime in the wee small hours of the morning, the pen had taken on the shape of Kono's crumpled and broken body lying in stark contrast to the blazing white sheets of the ambulance stretcher. As long as there is breath powering his body, he would never forget her lost, unfocused eyes flickering about, like a pair of moths seeking out a recently extinguished light. His eyes had snapped open at that time to settle on the bleeding ink from the broken cartridge. He hasn't moved since then nor has his eyes wandered far from his savaged desk top. I'm going to have to reprint the pages beneath before Danny saw them, Steve thought miserably. But seeing the remnants of the pen for what it was – a pen did nothing to stop the sound and voices that had ricocheted around his mind since Saturday.

The screeching tires of the Camaro, the door of the tech van slamming open, the glass breaking from the garage door, the cocking of a multitude of weapons. The worst was the dull thud of a socket wrench hitting toned, brown skin, muffled by the transmission connection feeding into his ear. These sounds mingled with the shouts of his team and those of the suspected drug lords', which in turn melded with Kono's anguished cries. It amazed Steve, even today, how sharp each distinct sound was in his memory. And the words. The words of hate, love, loathing, fear, compromise, and condemnation seemed to cut him to the quick.

Danny's Jersey-toned inflection bit at him with a plethora of words such as "Go, go, go, go.", "We need back-up." "Fuckin' move." And the one that hurt the worst? "Stupid Fuckin' Rambo." Steve had thought that he and Danny were overcoming the boss and subordinate part of their relationship and becoming more friends and equals lately, maybe even more if he was brave enough to hope. So to hear Danny belittling his military background with the barely concealed disdain in his voice and calling him stupid as well, Steve could sense what little hope he had ebbing away. He knew that he should be planning for the upcoming raid, but he couldn't stop the memories or the words from coursing through his mind.

Both Chin's grunts of hate as he lashed out at his cousins' tormentors and the soothing platitudes of peace and wellness for the gasping woman were eventually overrun by the phrases, "Idiotic Military-brained shit" and "Crazy _okole_ with a death wish." Not to mention a liberal dose of sad, but true even more venomous words in their Mother Island tongue.

The most catastrophic words to Steve. The ones that were absolutely a rusty dagger to his soul. The ones that would never leave Steve as long as blood was coursing through his veins was when Chin suggested in voice of unmitigated disdain, that Steve would never live up to the elder McGarrett's legacy.

Steve had felt like he had been gutted like an _ahi _at the time, but now staring at a destroyed pen, he knew that he had to concur with his father's old partner. He had seriously fucked up this case from the beginning, maybe . . . probably . . . no, definitely beyond repair. He would laugh if the feeling of absolute failure hadn't stole own voice. He would laugh at his acknowledgement and acceptance of the bittersweet revelation that his father had been right to send him away all those years ago. Hawaii was no good for Steve . . . and Steve had proved that he was unquestionably no good for Hawaii.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~5*0~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

The din on the docks has reached mind-cancelling new levels as the number of emergency personnel in the forms of HPD, HFD, and EMT'S seemed to multiply drastically. What started as 5-0 and a handful of drug runners fifteen minutes ago has grown to nearly 100 bodies, each trying to accomplish their specific tasks without knocking each other into the drink. Granted this was hampered by the addition of the 22 (so far) Chinese immigrants that had been discovered packed into the bowels of the yacht.

Fingering the tape that spanned from the neck of his tac vest to just below his left ear, Danny watched as one of the wannabe baddies was finessed by the M.E. assistants into the shapeless black bags that the coroner used for transport. Early afternoon sun causing the plastic to shimmer not unlike the pool of crimson it lay next to. It turns out that having money enough to do these illegal activities does not necessarily merit a clean, bloodless getaway, Danny thought mirthlessly.

From his sitting position on the back of the ambulance, Danny tried to piece together when this case had become such a clusterfuck. What started as a simple case of suspected straws filled with pure heroin hitting the streets of Honolulu via imported cigarillos from the Philippines, has now turned into human trafficking, murder, illegal aid packages filled with guns, and a drug cartel ran by morons. Filthy, rich morons, mind you.

Dropping his head down to avoid actually having to continue seeing the carnage that was set off by these imbeciles and his very own idiot –McGarrett, he winced at the pull of the tape on the fine hairs near his hairline. The bandage covered the angry blistered skin burned by a glancing bullet. It stung like a bitch and would more than likely leave a faint scar, Danny thought, but at least it was the most minor injury he had had in a while and definitely not fatal. Neither of his wounds were, he reasoned, but the cut that circled from near the outer elbow to inner wrist of his left arm was going to require 'a bit of darning' as Nana Williams would have said.

"Detective Williams? The voice floated down from the cavernous depths of the ambulance he sat on. "We're getting ready to roll, Detective. We suggest that you ride on in with us and get that cut seen to. We've got like two min –."

"Yeah, yeah, let me . . . gimme a sec . . ." Danny muttered as he pulled himself to standing with the aid of the door. Sighing, he climbed up onto the step that he had just been sitting on when he realized he wasn't going to see anything from the ground and started scanning the crowd for Steve.

"We've got someone else in this bus. If you want to wait, which we don't recom -."

Danny glanced down at the EMT that was trying to hurry him and thought that it was impossible that this kid was doing this job, let alone even be allowed to obtain a drivers' license. He should be working a shave ice stand and trying to get to second base with some Becky Sue behind the surf shack. Hell, Danny thought miserably, after today, I might be working at the shave ice stand, but maybe not so much the Becky Sue. "Yeah, gimme a second, will ya? I got to let my partner know where I'm at."

Grunting, Danny pulled himself taller with the top of the loose door and let his gaze take in the melee that was slowing taking over the docks. He spotted a few of the HPD guys he knew before he settled his roving gaze on an extremely sage Chin, who in turn was nodding sympathetically at a noticeably frazzled Chinese man. From the bandages ringing the man's wrists and the wild expression his face held, Danny guessed that he, until a short time ago had thought that he was never going to see sky again.

Danny knew that if he called Chin over to let him know where he was going, there was a good chance that one of two things were going to happen; a) he would give Danny an ample amount of grief for interrupting his interrogation and then not give the message to their boss or b) he would offer sympathy for the pain Danny was in and then not give the message to their boss. Yep, Chin was not the man to play Mercury for Danny.

Chin was going to be out of that role for a while, especially since he and Steve have said maybe six words to each other since last Saturday and it was unlike they would speak in the foreseeable future. Saturday was the day that Kono caught the business end of one the cartel clowns' wrenches while working an angle undercover. The rest of the team had barreled into the garage in less than a minute, but that was enough time for the next 6-8 weeks of Kono's schedule to be cleared for physical therapy. Danny grimaced at the thought of pitting to the two men together over a measly message and took to skimming the crowd again.

He spotted Steve a few seconds later. He stood beyond the chaos of the dock and past the yellow cordon tape that flapped gaily in the costal breeze. Beyond even the growing ring of spectators and looky-loos. Steve stood stock still, feet shoulder width apart, free hand clenched behind his back, and dark head hung so low that Danny couldn't even see the bright reflection of the water between his chin and his sternum. Danny could only guess that Steve was getting the ass chewing of the century and it was a pretty safe guess as from whom.

He wished that he could actually be by his partners' side right now, if not for moral support, then for the idea of brother-in-arms or something like that. The past several months had been a series of up and downs like Danny had never experienced in all his years of policing; but through it all he knew, with not a single speck of doubt in his mind that Steve would always be there with him, to reassure and push him, to commiserate and celebrate. Over the course of the past couple of days . . . No . . . the past week or so, since they had first caught wind of this case, Steve had seemed a bit more distant, less sure of his actions. A very peculiar side of Steve that Danny had never seen before. One thing for sure though, he speculated as he watched Steve start to pace a little, he didn't like seeing it now and hoped never to see it again.

At first, Danny had thought that he was just overly tired and more than a bit disgusted with himself for the botched undercover raid and that he was projecting that onto Steve. Skewing reality or whatever. But with Kono hospitalized and Chin playing the role of the invisible man, Danny had more one-on-one time with Steve than usual. And in the past week Steve had morphed right before his eyes, but it seemed as if he was just now realizing it.

Gone was the slow, affable grin that Steve would adopt when Danny said something that amused him or berated him for his lack of knowledge on rules and regulations. Also AWOL were the bewitching hazel eyes that saw seemingly into his soul, seeking out all those troublesome thoughts and ideas that Danny fought to hide so that he could keep on getting a paycheck every two weeks. But for the life of him, Danny couldn't get his mind around the difference between the old Steve and this new hollow one.

"Detective -."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, one more second. _Please_."

"One more minute, sir, then we gotta roll."

Danny glanced at the kid again, scrunching his eyebrows and curling his lip at the word 'sir'. Glancing up at Steve again, Danny felt winded at the sudden realization of what his friend reminded him of.

It seemed that Steve had become hollow, kind of like the cracked shell that Gracie had picked up the last time the team took to the beach. Chin had explained to her that it once was a nice cozy home for a hermit crab, but the crab, in the interest of comfort and size had moved on to a bigger and better shell, thus leaving the smaller, damaged shell behind. Looking again at the slumped shoulders stance of his boss, Danny frowned at the image of Steve as a broken shell of a man.

"Detec-"

"Right. Okay, okay, I hear ya." Danny felt a very serious twinge of regret in his next decision. Lowering himself down with the help of the door and the youngster masquerading as an EMT, The detective granted himself another sigh, "Okay, let's go. I'll shoot him a text from the road."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Notes and disclaimer are at beginning of Chapter 1

**Chapter 2: Going Nowhere**

Steve peered up into the wheelhouse, trying to get a definitive headcount on the drug traffickers. Four . . . five . . .wait, no six. Shit. So, two-to-one, not the best or worst of odds in the world, but odds he could work with. Easing his head down again, he turned to motion to his team only to find them already gesturing between themselves and hustling to spring into action. What the fuck? Steve thought. When did I lose control of this mission? Have they lost all faith in me? When did that happen? Shaking his head to clear it of his own second-guessing, an act that had become more commonplace these past few weeks, he steeled himself and popped up to a deadly projectile welcome.

"Yes, Ma'am. It looks lik-"Steve started before he was silenced by the rapid fire questions of the Governor.

His phone had rang shortly after the bullets ceased trying to find a home in his and his teams' flesh. By then Danny was kneeling on the back of one of the wannabe gangsters and Chin had discovered an entirely new reason to hate this group of gunmen. Steve counted thirty-one disheveled black heads (at last count) emerging from below deck. A mind-boggling number. It was a small yacht, after all. Their confused and fearful faces mirrored what he, himself was feeling. This was originally supposed to a drug investigation, centering on a smallish cartel moving between the Philippines and Hawaii, making pit stops at the many little islands in between. Now there were apparently not only a myriad of drugs and illegal transportation charges because of the cigarillos, arson charges, the murder of two HPD officers to answer for, and the brutalization of one of his own _Ohana_; but now human trafficking charges as well and for what purpose. Steve was fearful to find out.

"No, Ma'am, I only know of Mr. Washui by reputation of his company. I didn't even know he had a son. Doesn't he kno-" Steve was growing increasingly frustrated by this conversation as he was cut off by his boss yet again. She had had him on the phone now for nearly 15 minutes, long enough for him to lose track of his team in the growing number of support and response personnel. He had ducked behind a stack of bins in various stages of repair, but had been shooed away as the HPD needed the space to start processing the poorly clothed boat people. "But, Ma'am, this is _still_ the same cartel that had nearly killed a member of my team. I think that I used the proper amount of forc-." Dammit.

His caught a hollow, distant-looking glance from Chin as the eldest 5-0 team member started working his way through the throng of Chinese men and women. Steve ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it into a more unkempt state. He didn't know how long Chin could avoid him and still work for the task force. He knew it couldn't be that long and he would hate to lose him; he was too good at what he brings to the team, both in knowledge of policing and computers and on the emotional front. He was their touchstone of even temperament, their compassionate advisor on all things of a personal nature. But Steve had witnessed his every attempt at reconciliation, from straightforward and factual to apologetic and nearly pleading, be rebuffed.

Now it seemed Chin didn't even want to share the same office space with him, Steve thought with more than a bit of desolation. Chin hadn't been in the office for more than a handful of minutes since Tuesday. Danny had said at the time that he was probably off to the hospital to see his cousin, but Steve could see the white lie for what it was. A lie, on his behalf maybe, but a lie none-the-less. Hell, even sharing the same air seemed to pain the man, Steve felt his frown deepen at the thought.

Pacing around as the Governor continued to extol the many wondrous and fine talents a one Mr. Washui, shipping magnate extraordinaire, brought to the islands, Steve finally caught sight of Danny being surrounded by medical workers. Breath catching in his throat, Steve fought through the many fatalistic flashes his brain provided to the rest of his nervous system. His partner was partially blocked by a lanky member of the HPD. Craning his head for a better look, Steve started for what looked like the epicenter of the activity on the dock. He had to reach his partner.

It was only when he saw Danny settling in on the bumper inside the back doors of one of the many ambulances dispatched to the scene, getting a bandage taped to his arm that Steve expelled the fetid air from deep within his chest. He's okay, Steve thought momentarily placated by Danny nodding at the one of the EMTs in their bright yellow vests, cracking a wry smile while his free arm gestured fantastically about.

"McGarrett? McGarrett, am I boring you? Do you think that I just called to chat? Hmm?" Governor Jameson's voice took on a brittle tone. He stopped walking and performed an about face when the he registered the Governor's voice again.

"No, ma'am. Steve hurried lied to reassure the woman buzzing in his ear. "I was just trying to count the refuges. There seem to -."

" – nd if that's the case, McGarrett, I can have this entire operation . . ." She hadn't even heard him. Steve allowed his level of attention to drop down because she was off on another tangent that he would never be able to follow. And he had been partners with Danny for several months now, so he should be well practiced in the art of half-listening.

Fabulous, Steve thought with more than a bit of sarcasm. Danny is injured and he was here being reamed for doing his job. This was just one more thing for Danny . . . and Chin to hold against him. A team mate hospitalized because of his plan and now another one hurt, while Steve, himself appeared to be MIA from the clean-up of fucking 'Hell'. He knew that he wasn't the best team leader to walk this earth. Probably not even on this island, but by now he had certainly solidified his place as worst. Of all the missions Steve had been on or led, this was turning out to be worse than all of them. Combined. Catching the toe of his boot against a weathered plank on the dock, Steve stumbled into one of the firemen hosing down the blackened hull of the smugglers yacht.

"Watch it, 5-0!" Steve caught himself on the man's jacket sleeve and with an apologetic grimace, jumped the hose and hastened up the dock. Christ, am I just a number? A last name? A stupid, idiotic militarized ass? Steve didn't even bother to think about the answers to his own ponderings for he knew that they would all be a resounding 'yes'.

"Governor, I do not believe that I need to apologize to Mr. Washui for the current state of his yacht. IT was being used in a felonious manner." Steve was having a difficult time keeping the agitation from slipping into his voice. "No! No, Detective Williams is not feeding me lines, Governor. I believe _he_ is being seen to by the EMTS, Ma'am. In fact, I need to-." Fuck! She was off again on another monologue about the hospitalization and medical budget extended to his task force.

A knock against his shoulder by another member of the HFD got his attention. He was in the way again, a feeling that he felt both literally and cerebrally. God Dammit, he thought as he marched to the yellow cordon tape, grasp it and stretched it high over his head, accidently snapping the plastic ribbon as it was pulled too taught. He walked away quickly, but not before hearing an officer say "asshole" as he pulled the tape ends close enough to tie a knot, keeping the curious harbor folk back.

Looking out over the water as the Governor threatened him to disband the task force and "don't you think for one minute that I hadn't thought of this before, McGarrett." Steve felt as if not only this case, but the entire world was attempting to break his spine. He had never felt like such a failure. Nor has he ever felt so alone.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~5*0~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

Even with his eyes closed, Danny could sense the confusion of the emergency room. The pungent odor of stale bodies and soiled clothing to his right identified the unfortunate individuals from the bottom of the boat. The metallic tang of blood and sweet tobacco to the left of him must be one or more of the surviving drug runners. Listening, he heard the staccato voices of the officials, the gentle tones of the nurses, the belligerent indifference of the thugs, the halting, stammering foreign tongues as they all smear into a cacophonous symphony with the beeps and hums of the various machines.

The wall is his strength right now, holding him upright as he sits upon a gurney in a holding pattern in the hall. He could feel the cold metal of the lowered rails behind his knees and breeze from curtains swishing aside following the cadence of soft-soled feet. Lifting his phone up so that he doesn't have to bend his neck more than necessary, he eased his eyes open to note that his message to Steve was still unreturned. What was keeping his partner, he wondered, it only takes a few seconds to send a text. Frowning, he shut his eyelids again with the hope that time would pass more quickly if he didn't have to witness it. But he knows he will be wrong in this desire.

"So the injuries just keep piling up for you guys, don't they?" asked a jovial feminine voice right in front of him.

Danny raised his head from its reclined position against the off white wall and opening his eyes once again to see a petite Hawaiian nurse standing a few feet away with her arms crossed in mock judgment. "Ah, the woman of my dreams." He replied wryly with a half-assed grin, "You gonna get me stitched up and outta here sometime today, Lani?"

"Maybe. She replied with a quirk of a smile. "Depends on if you feel as though you deserve my gentle care before the suffering masses you and your team have showered upon this fine establishment. Again, I might add."

"Oh, I deserve, Lani. I deserve. And as for this mess, I am but one man, one lowly servant of this tropical hellhole you call a state, you cannot lay this _all _on me." The nurse smiling, shook her head and gestured for him to follow.

Slipping from the gurney, Danny followed her a few steps to a curtained triage area and climbed upon on the examination table. He was glad to have a nurse that had treated him before. Sure, she wasn't afraid to give him no small amount of grief, but Lani was damn good at her job. He watched her gathering a few instruments onto a rolling tray before dragging it over to where he sat.

"You know. For that sass, I should make you wait, but then everyone else will be all over me for subjecting them to unusual cruelty." She made to reach for his neck. "What am I looking at here?"

"No, Lan. The necks just a graze. The arm on the other hand may need a stitch or two." He said, battering her hand away with his right. They shared a grin at his horrible, unintentional he would swear to it, pun.

"Okay, okay, no need to make like a wee one scared of to take his medicine. Anyway, you know how it is with you guys. It's hard to tell with you 5-0 people being all 'tougher than thou' or what have you. A splinter for you guys is like a two-by-four through an appendage." The nurse peered over her shoulder at Danny. "Lose the shirt, Williams, so I can do this properly and you can hit the bricks after more baddies." She turned to select a pair of scissor from her tray. "_And_ I'm looking at that neck before you go."

Danny grinned at her spunk as he loosened his tie, pulled it from his collar and draped it over his knee. Lani would fit right in Jersey. She took no guff from anyone and he, himself had witnessed her putting McGarrett in his place. They really should hire her on as team medic, he thought randomly. Once he had successfully got the buttons down the front of his shirt undone he tried for his buttoned cuff but then stopped, waiting. The wound on his left arm kept trying to pop the butterfly bandages holding it closed as he fought to undo his right cuff. "Um, could you . . ." he started, holding out his uninjured right hand.

"Oh, fine, come here. You'd think you were a man or some other completely helpless creature. Hasn't your SEAL extraordinaire taught you anything about survival?" Her biting remark was tempered by the careful touch she used to unfasten his buttons. She helped him ease the shirt around his back and down the ragged cut of his injury. "So, did you attempt to battle shark or what?" Lani asked with a facetious tone.

"You can't honestly believe that this is a shark bite?" Danny stated, somewhat appalled.

"You're right." Lani grinned. "But it looks to be a somewhat deep, rather ugly cut and shows nary a sign of any straight edges. Like a sharks." She said matter-of-factly. "What did you tangle with, Williams, a chainsaw? A bartender with a corkscrew to grind? Your partner?" She quirked a questioning eyebrow at him and waited for his answer.

"One of the juice jockeys out there tried to use one of those green, military-issue ammo cans, you know the ones all the kids use as tackle boxes? Anyway, they were using them to move some of their merch in and apparently Mr. Wonderful decided it also made a great weapon. I got a little _too_ close and it apparently it had seen better days . . . aaah." Danny paled slightly as the butterfly bandages that the nurse was removing were doing a bang-up job of de-furring his forearm. "Jesus, Lani . . . unnngh . . . and the bottom corner was banged up right nice and rusty as _SHIT_ . . . uuh, crap. Sorry." He finished, turning a bit red, free hand dropping to his lap after mimicking the drug runners flailing.

"Nothing, I haven't heard before." Lani shrugged, before she shushed him gently as he gasped from the sting of the antiseptic followed by the prick of the local anesthesia. "Yep, looks like about 12 or so stitches and a tetanus booster and you'll be outta those doors and outta my hair in no time flat."

Finished with his arm for now, the nurse stepped outside of the curtain for a moment to confer with someone. When she returned, Lani started to ease the tape from his neck. He winced a bit at the slight pulling, but knew that having her clean it up a bit and slather it with some cream would heal it faster than if he just went home and dealt with it. This would be to say, NOT deal with it. He would take off the bandage in the shower and forget to put on anything to treat it or cover it until it would begin to get infected. Yeah, he can admit his shortcomings, if only to himself.

"So where's your Ken doll, Barbie?" Lani asked as she went over to the work station to root around in a drawer for some more tape. "Isn't he usually lurking around somewhere, making everyone tense and such."

"McGarrett?" Danny made a face at the name-calling. "Last I saw, he was getting his as . . . ah, tushie handed to him by the Governor. I came in with one of the buses." Danny nodded slightly at the arriving intern as he pulled back the curtain and made his way over to the rolling cart covered with needles and threads and pulled it closer. Danny pulled out his phone again to check his messages.

"No cell zone, Detective." The Intern intoned as he scrutinized the cut, before selecting a needle.

"I know, I know. Just checking if I have any messages. Hey . . ." He groused as Lani tugged the phone from his hands and laid it on top of his ruined button down.

"You'll be done soon enough, then you can go zoom around in your pink Corvette, making calls to your heart's content, then maybe you'll find your tall, dark, and definitely handsome at your pink dream house. Oh, and maybe Skipper will come over with some shave ice and you can have a party." Lani laughed.

" Oh, har, har. There's no party in my future, only reams of paperwork, followed, hopefully mind you, by an ungodly amount of adult beverages. And then sleep, hours upon hours, hell, even days worth of restful, dreamless sleep." Danny replied, staring at the poster on the wall showing the effects of drinking and driving. Noticing the car pictured was silver, he wondered if it could also be used in a campaign to warn a person of a certain Navy SEAL's psychotic driving. The blonde furrowed his brows as the thought brought to mind that he hadn't seen or even_ heard_ Steve since the docks. Where the hell was McGarrett? "I might skip the booze even and go straight to the sleep portion of the game. Oh, and by the way, I drive a Camaro. Not a Corvette. Ca-mar-o."

The intern finished up his stitches and wrapped a loose gauze bandage around his arm before clapping Danny on the knee and with a flip of the curtain, was gone.

"Not a man of many words, is he?" Danny asked a bit rhetorically, as Lani titled his head a bit to get at the part of the wound behind his earlobe. "And as for McGarrett, yeah, um, I'm kinda surprised he's not here yet. Being the harbinger of doom, he usually follows me around enticing storm clouds to follow me everywhere. I don't know how we have made it as team so far, with everyone still alive." Danny paused for a second as the nurse laughing, tilted his head to the left. "Seriously, I think McGarrett stays up at night making plans on how to get us killed. Laugh if you must, but he probably pays all these miscreants to crawl out of the woodwork to do the job. Bonus to them if they can come up with the most creative snuffing possible. I bet the Navy was happy to put him in the Reserves just so they could go back to standard combat practices." Danny finished with a sigh, he knew that none of that was true, but until he could figure out what was up with his partner . . . his friend . . .

"Yeah, but at least you're inside right now, nothing going to get to you in here." She answered chuckling. Danny flinched as Lani's steady hand smoothed the dressing a bit deep into the bullet groove as she jumped a bit as the noise level outside the curtained area rose with a clattering commotion. "Oops. Sorry, Danny. Spoke too soon. Is he really that bad?"

Danny bit his bottom lip to dull the throbbing pain of his neck. "Naw, it just seems as though we are always up against it, you know. But if you really must know and you swear to tell no one –" Danny turned his head a fraction, trying to catch Lani's eye. He paused until she nodded. "When it's all said and done, there is no one and I mean no one I trust more than this team. Specifically, one Steve McGarrett. Sure, I complain about our chances of death, which do seem a bit higher than the normal police average, but 5-0 is effective and McGarrett is definitely the man to run it. I trust him with my life, with the lives of Kono and Chin, hell with my daughter's life. Steve is practically invincible."

"I hope that it never comes to that. Your daughter's life. But if it does, god forbid, I don't think that Commander McGarrett will be standing alone." Lani replied, handing Danny his ruined shirt and his cell. "Anyway, that's you done. Hopefully, I won't see you anytime soon."

"No offense, Lani. I hope to never see you again. At least not this week." Danny answered with a laugh. Sweeping back the curtain, Danny hoped that McGarrett had made his way to the hospital by now.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Notes and disclaimer at the beginning of Chapter 1

**Chapter 3: No Expressions**

Parking the Camaro next to his truck, Steve stared straight ahead, defeated. All he wanted was a few minutes to gather his thoughts and then hopefully have a sit down with Chin and Danny when they got back. This case was tearing the team apart and Steve needed to find out from the two men and Kono, when she was better, how he could make them all whole again. He was not used to faltering and floundering and he needed to get his _whole_ teams insight into what he could do to rectify the current state of 5-0.

He would finish up the paperwork first, of course. No matter what anyone said or thought about him, he would do his duty. All that was left was typing up his take on today, something he should be able to hammer out before the others got back. Steve grimaced, unfolding his lengthy form from the Camaro, remembering that he had to reprint the forms that he had ruined this morning before the raid at the docks. Well, he thought blithely, that as well as today's update shouldn't take more than twenty minutes, if that. He had been accused of being a slacker when it came to paperwork, mainly by Danny, Steve recalled with a frown. The Navy not only instilled in him strength, fighting, and knowledge of weaponry but also a supreme handle on the concept of efficiency, so it was with grim determination that he strode towards the 5-0 offices. He had a lot to do, before he could rest.

He had spent nearly twenty minutes after he got off the phone with Governor looking for Danny. Nobody had seemed to know where his partner had got off to. Chin gave him a blank look, before climbing in the Traverse to follow the final ambulance to the hospital. It was after he had circled the dock twice in different directions, before he found himself at Danny's car again. Alone. It wasn't until he pulled out his cell to call the blond detective that he saw had a text from the very same man. It was sent over half an hour ago.

*Gone to Queens on bus. Im okay. Meet you back at HQ when done. You start paperwork.*

Steve heart sank a little lower at the thought that his supposed partner didn't even want him to come and pick him up. 'Meet you back at HQ.' Danny couldn't have made it any clearer that he didn't want Steve around and Steve was beginning to get the message loud and clear. He shouldn't be surprised, he thought harshly, who would want such a misguided failure.

Sure, there was a time not long ago that Steve felt that he could have successfully wooed anyone, even a blonde, brash male mainlander, such as Danny. But it seemed to Steve that no matter what he did Danny could always seem to find fault. "You're going to get us killed." "Slow down." "You need therapy." "Were you not held as a child?" "Seriously? Smooth Dog?" Steve used to be able to brush off the taunts and ridicule from his partner with a laugh and a rapid-fire quip. But lately they felt to Steve as if they had turned more brutish and sharp; aimed to inflict pain. The biting remarks had all the evidence of being not unlike a shelter woven from thorny branches; tightly interlaced into a formfitting shroud that abused Steve from both the inside and out, causing him to shudder and itch.

Disappointed, Steve had gotten into the car and started for HQ only to turn towards Queens' Medical and then turn again a few blocks later for HQ. The Camaro was at the stop sign, ready to turn left into the parking lot, when Steve had changed his mind again, causing the driver of the Volvo he cut off as he turned right to lay his horn. Danny was his partner and he should be there as he got treatment. Maybe it would remind him that Steve cared for his wellbeing and maybe being there would help ease the irritation that ran beneath his own skin.

The intake at the emergency room of Queens' Medical was strikingly close in its level of mayhem to the mess Steve had just left behind at the docks. One of the three surviving drug runners was bellowing something about police brutality as he fought against the two HPD officers guarding him and two orderlies. His gasping tenor seemed to pitch up an octave and become more erratic when he caught sight of Steve striding in the double sliding doors. For his part Steve just continued to the in-patient desk.

He felt like Gulliver among the Lilliputians as he navigated a sea of black-haired human cargo they had found on the yacht seated in every available seat. One positive is that many of the Chinese immigrants had seemed to settle down in the interest of watching one of their captors being manhandled.

As he turned to avoid a collision with a gurney occupied by another of the unconscious surviving scum, Steve bumped into someone.

"Sorry, he muttered before he took note of his accidental victim, "Chin. Hey, you okay? What about Danny? He text me that he was coming here. You seen him?" Steve cursed himself for his stuttering questions "Danny?"

The expression on the other man's face went from surprised to concern to downright angry at who had plowed into him in the space of a second, "Careful. Don't know." was all he said to Steve as he turned back to the patient and the nurse who was interpreting as she did a brief examination. Steve for his part noticeably flinched.

"Chin." Steve hated himself for not being able to control the desperate twinge his voice had taken on. When was the last time he had control of anything? "I know you . . . you, uh, pretty much hate . . . um, me right now, but . . .but where's Danny?"

Chin's eyes had flattened out to the smallest slits Steve had ever seen on any other living thing, when he turned to face him. "I. Don't. Know. McGarrett." And he turned back around and smiled to the small Chinese woman he was interviewing. Steve felt himself shrinking beneath both the glare from his teammate and the curious look on the nurses' face.

Feeling sick to his stomach at the sheer loathing he had just witnessed. Steve honestly could sense a retch coming as he backed away from the trio in front of him. There were many times he had faced fury and resentment. His years working in the SEALs had pitted him against many enemies that had treated him just as Chin did. But Chin was his friend, a mentor, someone who Steve had come to see as an extension of his fallen father. There was no way Chin was ever going to being civil with him again. The team felt broken beyond repair.

The bitterness from his heart started to seep up into his mouth and bile threatened to choke him as he took his teammates resentment to heart. What's more is that he deserved it. He had lost his teammate, his friend and it felt as though something twisted up inside his stomach, agonizing and hard. An ache that was once more phantom than real had finally turned physical. After all, the undercover op that Kono had been injured on had been his idea. Chin hated him. Danny was hurt and more than likely never wanted to see him again. Steve abandoned his quest for the nurses' station and turned down a side hall that he knew from past visits was home to a restroom.

Rinsing his mouth following a few strangling dry heaves, Steve held the cool water in his mouth until it turned tepid. Avoiding looking up, he splashed water onto his face a few times and then slowly spit that which he held behind his sealed lips out, hoping that the doubt that had crept into his soul would go with it. He was disillusioning himself, he knew, but it was worth a shot. Patting his face dry with a few hastily yanked paper towels, Steve made the mistake of raising his bowed head.

Fuck.

He looked worse than, he thought. Skin pulled taught over his skull, cheeks slightly sunken under his god-only-knew-how-long-it-had-been-since-he-shaved stubble, hair wild and filthy. Hollow eyes that appeared to be too big for his face stared back at him; red rimmed with purplish, dark grey circles beneath. They looked like those of an animal that had been tortured too long and had no fight left, but was too damn noble to die at the hands of its tormentors. Noble, he blinked at himself, when was I ever noble? I'm just a greedy, heartless bastard who demands that people do what I say, no matter if it will kill them or not, he thought, staring at a face he felt he no longer recognized. Wadding the paper towels into the tightest damp ball possible, Steve pitched it at trash can, missing by about a foot, he snorted at the thought that he could have made it. Yeah, right.

Steve cast around his mind for something anything that could make him quit looking at this repugnant human in the mirror. This waste of fucking skin, he thought with more than a bit of scorn. If he was being honest with himself, he would go so far to admitting to being a complete fuck up. He couldn't do anything right. This case. His team. Kono. Danny. Bullfrog. That nice kid on spring break. Wo-Fat. Hesse. Mary. His dad . . . His mom. Jesus, the list could just keep growing and growing if he didn't do something. Scrunching his eyes shut and baring his teeth, he locked on the first thing he could to try and tilt his world back onto its proper axis.

Find Danny. Find Danny and go to headquarters. Find Danny, go to HQ after taking Danny home to recuperate, and start the paperwork. After the paperwork was done and this case was closed, then he could worry about everything else. Gripping the basin as if he was going to dismount it manually from the wall, he fought the incoming tide of everything he needed to face and fix before he even wanted to look in the mirror again. If he ever did again.

Find Danny. That's where he needed to start. After that Danny would help him grasp all that needed to be done. Danny had his back, just like Steve had his. At least he hoped that was still the case. He had to believe that it was the truth, or else what was left. Nothing. He would just be someone everyone would remember as "That poor McGarrett boy. Such a shame. He showed so much promise." Yanking the door open, he exited the restroom, kicking the little ball of paper under the sinks by accident.

It was unclear how Steve navigated out the doors of the ER or even how he managed to make it back to 5-0 headquarters without killing himself. In his rush to leave the hospital he had sent a machine rolling on its cart with its, cords and wires draped haphazardly, into an unoccupied gurney when he bumped it in his rush to get out. He hadn't even stopped to see if it hit anyone. He felt like the biggest ass ever. Sitting in the parking lot of the office, he realized that he had no recollection of the drive there.

He had found Danny. Well, had heard him at least, describing to someone how he, Steve, his boss, his partner, his one-time friend was basically the angel of doom and destruction. He had all but implied that Steve had a death wish for them all. Pulling the door to the common room open, Steve sighed and accepted his reality. He had arrived back to what had become his own personal morgue.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~5*0~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

Carrying his ruined shirt and tie, Danny stopped at the desk to finalize his paperwork for this visit. They really should have all this on file by now, he thought grimly. It seemed as though he had been in here at least once a month if not more, since he had joined 5-0. He started as a hand descended gently onto his shoulder.

"Hey, brah. How you doin'?" Chin asked, concern evident in his dark brown eyes. "They cuttin' you loose?"

"Chin, hey, uh, I'm good. Yeah they're not making me stay, I'm good." Danny stammered. He was beginning to wonder when he had lost his ability to form a coherent sentence. When he had started to feel uncomfortable around his team? Was it just lately or was it at the start of this nightmarish case or sometime before that? Or had the team always been a little fractured and he had never noticed how much. He knew that they all carried more than a bit of baggage with them, but now it seemed as if the proverbial trunk was full and there was no room for themselves.

Chin continued to watch him with those depthless eyes, like he was trying to figure out when Danny would cut and run on him. Frankly, it made Danny want to run, but to where, he had no clue. He had no idea how to fix this . . .whatever it was that was broken. And where was McGarrett? It was out of character for him to not stay in contact after a raid. Danny started to gnaw on his bottom lip, worried.

"So, um, you headin' to headquarters?" Danny started, sounding a tad indecisive. "I just ask cause I could use a lift if you are. I, um. . .ah, I texted Steve that I would go there after, ah, here. But if you're goin' to go up to see Kono, I can just get one of the guys from HPD to give me lift, so either way, it's no problem. Come to think of it you should do just that. See Kono, that is. Don't sweat it." Danny sped through his little speech, trying to act carefree and unaffected by the growing tenseness on Chin's usually zen-like face. "I thought that I would go in and get started on the paperwork, you know. Then maybe we can close the door on this fucking case."

"Danny."

"Yeah." Danny replied, voice rising in question.

"I can give you a lift. I got to get back to the dock, to make sure that the lab guys got everything. I just came here to finish getting a few statements." Chin said looking darkly at the bank of elevators at the end of the hall. "And I agree, Danny. I really do."

"What's that, Chin?"

"Let's end this case. Today."

They stepped out the sliding doors at the ambulance bay entrance into the late afternoon sun. It felt good on Danny's face and shoulders, warming them after the chill of the examination room. Chin nodded in the direction of the Traverse as he checked his phone after it gave it's sharp little shrill, indicating an incoming text. Danny waited for him to unlock the doors, settled into the passenger side, and was awkwardly fastening his seatbelt all the while Chin grimaced at his phone.

"That was the Boss. He's at HQ. Wanted to check if you were okay and if I would pick you up." Chin grunted.

Why didn't he call me, Danny thought somewhat perplexedly, or at least text. Why would he contact Chin? The man, who damn near everyone on this pile of godforsaken rocks knew, wasn't exactly jumping for joy at even being in the _same _zip code as his boss.

Watching Chin stab at his cell, Danny came to the conclusion that he had never seen this face before on his teammate. It looked as though it should be made of rock and standing on an island several miles to the Southeast. What were they called again? He wondered. "I'm guessing you told him yes on both counts." He replied.

Chin just gave him a look and pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

Rappanui. That's the names of the stone head's on Easter Island. Most of them looked harmless in the National Geographic pictures, but a few appeared to be downright pissed, Danny thought. That's Chin.

"I'm sorry?" Chin asked, somewhat sullenly. "Are you comparing me to a stone man with a gigantic head?"

Danny swallowed heavily. Shit did he just say all that out loud. "Um, No?" he started, "I was just trying to remember their name is all."

"I think you're lying. See, I think that you think I'm acting towards Steve, towards you, towards everyone, as if I _were_ made from stone and that I don't feel the pressures of this case. Or at least as much as you guys. That I don't care as much either. That I only care about Kono." Chin said hotly. "You all treat me as if I am some sort of Zen master, computer genius that cannot possibly be affected by all the madness that surrounds each and every one of our cases. Well, you're wrong , Danny. I feel each one of them. Each and every one _just _as much as all of you."

"This job, Chin continued in a tight voice. "It was the answer to prayers that I didn't even know I had whispered. After the entire debacle with the PD and the family thinking I did it and Malia. . .Malia always looking at me with shadows in her eyes. I, I didn't think I was good for anything anymore. Then Steve comes around like a fucking psychotic Willie Wonka in cargo pants with Hawaii's answer to a Golden Ticket and I start to believe that there's hope, you know."

Danny stared at the man and thought that that was the most words spoken in a row by Chin than he's ever heard before. "Chin –"

"And maybe there was. Hope, that is. But now, what are we doing? Huh? Tell me what we're doing. Kono's dealing with more pain than anyone should ever have to go through, not just physical, but stress from the family telling her to quit 5-0. I can't even back her up, Because, yeah, maybe she should quit. But I cannot tell my aunty that, nor the rest of them because not only would they not believe me, but they would think that I'm siding with them to try and win back favor or something like that. And you, you're going to probably catch more hell from Rachel if she catches sight of those bandages. _And Steve_ . . . I can't even begin to describe what's going on with him. And quit staring at me as though I have two heads. Two _stone_ heads." Chin stopped to pull in a lungful of air after his rant. He was staring at the traffic that zipped across the highway in front of them as they waited at the stoplight. Danny eyed the flushed Hawaiian as he took some deep steadying breaths. How do I answer that?

"Chin." Danny drew in a breath to steady a slight tremor in his voice. "Chin, look I'm sorry, I would never think that you don't care. You gotta know that. I just . . . I guess . . . that you always seem so unflappable. And I know this case has been tearing at us. _All of us_. I get that, I do. But with you blaming Steve for . . . for Kono and . . . and him on some sort of vengeance streak in her honor and none of us sleeping or barely eating, I don't know what to concentrate on any more." Danny stammered, voice dropping as did his hands with which he had been gesturing to reiterate his point, trying to make sense of it all.

"Look I know you hate Steve right now. I do. And probably me by proxy and HPD, hell, maybe even the governor and this tropical perdition that your forefathers decided to try and tame. But you gotta know that Kono and you and I and . . . McGarrett. We're doing a good job. We're trying and slowly succeeding in this stupid, idiotic battle between good and plumb fucking evil. You gotta know that Chin. Tell me you know that . . ."

Chin had pulled into the Palace parking lot by the time Danny had finished his brief tirade. He double parked the Traverse behind Danny's Camaro and Steve's truck and both men stared ahead at the Iolani Palace for a few moments. The sun had dipped largely into the horizon during their trip. The last volley of words seemingly rattled around their bodies and souls until all that was left spun out into the passenger compartment in the form of weary sighs, both men seemed lost on how to pick up the frayed threads of thoughts.

"I know, Danny." Chin started, wearily, "You know the thing that scares me the most? What scares me the most about Steve is that most of the time I see that look in his eye; the one that seems to stare through mountains and dares you to question him about what's on the other side. He gets that look and . . . and all I can see is his dad. It actually frightens me, Danny. Is he going to take some case and let it destroy him, too? I think Steve's turning into his old man and then what happens? Does he shut us out? Send us away? Does one of us get to hear a voice over a phone telling us how we should say goodbye? Does one of us get to hear Steve die?"

Danny twisted his head to the left to look at Chin a little too quickly and felt his skin losing its skirmish with the tape. He was stunned at the vision of what looked like anger, remorse and fear warring on the Hawaiians features. The questions chilled him faster than if he had stepped into one of the coolers at Kamekona's. He gingerly lifted his left hand and settled it gently on Chin's forearm.

"I'm sorry, Danny. I didn't mean it. . . I mean . . . I meant what I said. _All_ of it. I know you care and that you know that I feel. I'm not mad at you or . . . or at Steve. At least not like you think I am. I know that he can go off half-cocked. But he would never purposefully place Kono or any of us into danger he didn't think we could deal with." Chin spoke softly. "I think the person I'm angry with the most is myself –"

"No -." Danny started to interrupt.

"No, Danny. Listen to me. I swore to myself that when I suggested to Steve that Kono join 5-0, I would protect her. Be her hero when she needed it. Keep her safe. She's . . . She's the only family that never gave up on me and I promised myself that she would never get hurt. But last week . . ."

"She's a big girl, Chin. She's headstrong, smart, and scrappy. She scares the shit outta most of the perps. Hell, she can scare the shit outta me sometimes. There is no way you had a chance at keeping that promise."

"Yeah, I know." Chin gave a dry little laugh." I guess that I had fooled myself into believing that I could. So when it all went down it was easier to blame Steve than to actually be honest with myself. I had failed her . . . and myself."

Danny watched the last bit of anger and fear leave Chin's eyes and felt his muscles relax underneath his palm. All of a sudden Chin looked as weary and deflated as Steve had on the docks. "Have you been to see her?"

"Yeah. I've kinda snuck in after hours a couple nights back. Avoid giving the rest of the family more ammunition, you know." He said tiredly. "She gets out tomorrow, so hopefully, once she's at her place . . . Hell, she's more worried about Steve, than herself. Said he's been there every day, just staring at her when she wakes. Never says much past asking how she is. Holds her hand a bit and then leaves. Said the nurses told her that sometimes he comes in at night to check on her. Probably part of the grudge I've been harboring too."

"What?" Danny asked somewhat absently, his mind slightly clouded with the image of Steve holding Kono's hand.

"Him getting to go in whenever he wants, while I've got to time it just right."

"Chin –"

"Don't worry, Danny. I'm letting it go. I just needed this bastard of a case to be done. Then maybe we can all . . . I don't know, maybe we can all . . . regroup . . . and sleep. Some fucking sleep would be good. Don't stay all night, Danny, go home and catch a few."

"Yeah. You too, Chin." Danny opened his door and slid from his seat. He shut the door smoothly. "Thanks for the lift."

Chin started to pull away past Danny when he stopped and lowered the passenger window. "Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure McGarrett goes home too. Make him sleep . . . and eat if you can. He looks like shit. Tell him I'll . . . I'll talk to him tomorrow. I really need . . .sorry. I really need to apologize, to say I'm sorry. I've been an _okole._" Chin gave a half-hearted grin, put up the window and rolled away before the Danny could reply.

Danny lifted his hand at the retreating SUV before he turned to trudge up the stairs to start the paperwork. At least Steve was here to help him out, he mocked himself for his last thought as he reached for the door handle.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Notes and disclaimer at the beginning of Chapter 1

**Chapter 4: Hide My Head, I Wanna Drown My Sorrow**

He was lying on the sofa in Kono's office staring at the framed poster of the Pipeline she had hanging behind her desk when the buzzing started. Reaching blindly down, his hand skimmed around the floor in front of the couch before his fingers caught up his cell.

*yes*

Steve guessed that meant that Chin was giving Danny a ride, which implied that his partners' injuries were not as bad as he originally thought. He wouldn't have to spend the night at the hospital. Good, one task force member in a hospital bed was one too many. He dropped the phone back to the floor a dull thud. He would need to get up soon and find some composure or else he was sure to hear about it. Danny was always giving him grief about his expressions, but Steve saw them mainly as smiling, serious, or his SEAL face (the one Danny called his 'aneurism face'). Yeah, he really should get up to escape a full blown Danny-rant, he vacillated at the thought though.

He had come in and had completed all the paperwork he had to do in roughly fifteen minutes. He had dropped his case folder, complete with freshly printed forms on Danny's desk for his approval (something Danny insisted upon right around the second week they were partners.) He had thought about cleaning up the mess on his desk, but he was still fighting the warped pen version of last Saturday. Realizing that he hadn't visited Kono since last night caused Steve to deepen the crease between his brows. He had failed her yet again. He had promised her to visit every day. Fuck. He had come to her office because it had seemed as a sanctuary at the time.

Steve knew he could be working something, a cold case or signing off on the requisition forms that have lain in their folder on his desk for weeks now. Of course, they were probably covered with ink, he speculated crossly. It would make Danny happy, but his body felt leaden here on Kono's sofa. Besides, he thought flatly, not only had he finished up the proper forms for today's raid and left them, signed, on Danny's desk, but he had tidied up some of his personal paperwork that he started this morning. Besides his back and shoulder throbbed, he had probably tweaked something while he grappled with one of drugged out degenerates this morning. He let his eyes wander around the office.

The dust motes danced in the rapidly fading late afternoon sun easing in through the window, causing them to sparkle and shift around the crashing waves in the poster, bringing the water to life. They were mesmerizing, like seeing the heat waves off the sand in Afghanistan or the slipstreams of the anacondas gliding through the jungle grasses he had witnessed when he and his team had served a short stint in the Amazon basin. Neither instance held his fascination as the ocean did though. He missed the water when he was away from Hawaii. The feel of the salt drying on his skin, the smell of the sea life meeting the tropical air making it something at once stale and lush, indescribable but home to Steve.

Closing his eyes, Steve felt that he could almost hear the roar of the water, engulfing him, trying to pull him to the depths. He flexed his forearms where they lay, crossing his chest and his shoulder twitched back in return. His body ached worse than his first wipeout at the Pipeline. He felt again as if he were battling from the darkness of the saltwater dungeon, trying to force his way to the glimmering light above. At least then there had been a light to guide him. A point of reference to aim for. Safety could be had in the light.

The first time he was conscience of the ocean, outside of the just being an overly large bathtub to wade in, he had been around four and his dad had taken him out in the skiff. It seemed that the water went on forever. Steve attempted a lopsided grin at the memory. In the shallows his dad had pointed out the various denizens of the clear blue waters, streaking beneath the vessel. They had watched surfers across the cove riding what he would now call tourist waves. But then he was fascinated with the idea of riding a board. When they had nearly reached the breakers, his dad had lifted him over the edge of the boat. He remembered clinging to his dad's arms, terrified that he was going to be lost in all the water.

Steve reached a hand up to rub at eyes watering from the pain of the memory. His dad had a big smile and kept reassuring his son that he would be okay and to trust him. Steve sighed at the recollection of matching his dad's grin with shrieks of glee when he found himself on a sandbar built up from the tides. He felt then as if he were invincible. But his joy was cut short as he had jumped too far and stepped off into the abyss. But he again had the sunlight then to guide him, as well as his dad's strong hands. What did he have now? Who could or would save him from his foolish impulses? Ghosts were all that were left and they were as impotent as he felt.

Rubbing his eyes again before training them back on the poster made ominous by the dim light, Steve thought of the glass-encased model in his office. A ship filled with spirits and built by a ghost. His grandfather had made it when he was younger. Before he had fallen in love with Steve's grandmother and Steve' dad was born, before he had joined the Navy, before Pearl Harbor. It had become a family heirloom the day his grandfather had died, just three months shy of seeing his only son born.

When the Governor had volunteered to have decorators in to do up the offices for 5-0, Steve remembered how he was reluctant to do so. His team did not need pampering, but she had insisted. Well, if the powers that be declared that his office must be decorated, then he was going to have a say. It seemed only fitting to go with a Naval-slash-seagoing theme. And he knew which piece he would contribute. The model belonged in a museum, but at the time he knew he couldn't give up a piece of his grandfather or subsequently his father to be gawked at. There was so little left.

It was that first night back, the first night he had he spent in his father's house since he was sixteen, that he had found the model. It had survived the terror that Hesse had rained down on the house, by being stowed away in Steve's bedroom closet, covered with an old quilt and a stack of old surf magazines. He had no idea how long it had been there only that it wasn't there when he left Hawaii for the mainland. It surely didn't deserve to hidden as if someone was ashamed to have it identified with his family, it should be proudly displayed showing off the legacy of the McGarrett family.

That ship represented so much. The dedication and time that it must have taken to create. The naval history of America as well as that of his family Steve wondered if his grandfather's dad congratulated him on his accomplishment, pride evident in the twinkle of an eye. A clap on the shoulder to say 'well done, son.' Steve shuddered in the shame he felt at the jealousy he had for a man he never met, his own grandfather. I really am of the lowest form of the depraved, he chided himself. The ship really was beautiful and his grandfather a hero. He was being petty, he knew, but he was helpless stop the feelings that coursed through him.

He knew he should get up and go to his own office, but Steve didn't really think that Kono would mind that he was in here. He didn't realize how soft her couch was or with only one window as compared to his several, how dark it was. It was as if he had backed himself into a underwater grotto. Peering into the common room, the only lights that glowed were the tiny power lights of the electronics and the subdued red of the 'exit' signs above the main doors.

The ship.

Did the ship captains of yore feel as helpless and lost as he did, he wondered erratically, and if so what did they do? Did they seek solace in a bottle as he had started doing every night? Did they take out their frustrations on their crew, with floggings and extra duties? Expect too much from those that depended on them?

Perhaps they sought council in their visits to port and in the arms of a caring woman, something Steve hadn't done in quite some time. Not since he had really gotten to know his own team better. Not since he had brushed off Catherine one too many times. Not since a certain mainland detective had unknowingly high-jacked all of his partners resting hours in addition to the waking ones. He pondered on this for a while, letting his memories of happier times wash over him.

It had started with mistrust, guns, anger, and violence, but their partnership had survived. Sure there were missteps and differences of opinions, kind of like a new marriage after the initial honeymoon stage, Steve mused. If pressed, he would have to say that it had all changed after Meka, Danny's former partner, had been murdered. Steve had become mesmerized by the compassion that seeped into Danny's eyes, when he dealt with Meka's widow and the fiery belief that Meka was not bent. The days that followed the funeral, they had both seemed to seek out ways to connect with one another. Talks of childhood and family led to discussions over beers about youthful hi-jinxs and past loves.

Something had happened though, Steve couldn't put his finger on it, but something had changed. Danny had drawn away ever so subtly and when Steve had tried to nonchalantly push to find out he withdrew further hiding behind their work. It was then that Danny's insults and jibes had started to take on their obsidian-like quality, flaying his soul as quickly as a fisherman sliced open a bonito fish. Steve had decided then that a tactical retreat was called for. He wished now that he would have been able to dredge the truth from his partner, but he was spineless.

Stretching in his prone state, Steve catalogued in his mind the many overtures he had made clean the air between Danny and himself, and Chin . . . and Kono. He felt as if they had expected him to be of a near-messiah. He was a SEAL and SEAL's do not fail. There is no room for poor planning nor indecisive leaders. He drew up the deepest breath that he could and held it. It wasn't until his lungs burned and the pain from his shoulder started to radiate down his arm, that he let it out.

He wished it would cleanse him and absolve him of the exhaustion and condemnation that had taken up residence in his soul, but the time seemed like it was too far gone for that. Steve heard the elevator ding out in the corridor guessing that it was the remaining members of his team was returning from Queens'. He held his breath again for the minute it took someone to open the door to the main office.

"No, no. Everyone is okay. Yeah. What's that?" With each word echoed a footstep on the concrete floor. Danny. "Steve?" he chuckled lightly, "Well, Steve was – "

He heard Danny open his office door and then his voice was muted to a distant rumble of high and low inflections, but no distinct words behind his mostly closed door. Steve cocked his head for another set of footsteps, another door opening or closing, but there were none. Chin was normally a stealthy man, but he would have fired up the computer station in the great room if he was here. Unintentionally heaving a second more dejected sigh, Steve slowly sat up and peered over the back of the sofa out at the other offices.

They all remained dark, barring Danny's and the computer remained silent. Chin must have gone home or back to the hospital or somewhere he wasn't, Steve speculated. He did find it surprising that Danny hadn't turned on more light, seeing how the office was nearly all encompassed in darkness. Or that he didn't barge into Steve's and start demanding to know why he, Steve hadn't been to the hospital. But he sat at his desk in his office, with his back to the slightly open door, staring out the open window blinds as he continued his phone conversation.

Steve was . . .what? Steve considered what Danny had said as he entered his office. Steve was . . . stupid? Steve was . . .impulsive? Steve was . . . a flaming asshole that was willing to sacrifice his team? Yeah, that's the one. In Steve's mind he could already feel himself shutting down in anticipation of the rant that his partner would bestow on him as soon as he was off the phone.

"Sure, Monkey, we can do that if you want, but wha-" ah, it was his beautiful daughter on the phone then. Danny had exited his office again and was walking towards the mini kitchen down the hall. Probably in search of some cholesterol laden treat or coffee with enough sugar that Steve grimaced at the thought of the imagined dental bill.

Grace.

Just thinking the name caused an unexpected pain to spring up under Steve's ribs as he returned to a prone position. She is a wonderful kid; beautiful, smart and full of boundless energy. Hell, even being around Grace, made Steve want to be better himself, weird he knew, but what could he do? How could an 8 year-old influence a 35 year-old? He would ponder this, he _has_ pondered this, but always came to the same confusing conclusion. She may be the sun in Danny's world, lighting the man up brighter than the sun after a thunderstorm. But with Steve, she was more like the moon, a radiant entity that sought to chase away the darkness.

She just had that kind of effect on him. But Steve had seen the turmoil in her eyes whenever he was around her and Danny was on the phone to Rachel. Steve wondered if her parents knew what their bickering wasdoing to her or even if they knew she understood. For all they protected her from everything harmful out in the world, did they know what they, themselves were doing to her? Not intentionally, mind you, but they weren't always careful with their words.

Steve would watch the little girls face and when it would start to cloud up he would try to think of some funny folly from his youth; such as he had thought that he could build a slide from his bedroom window to the ocean or when he thought that it would be a great idea to trade his sister to the neighbors for their Jack Russell Terrier. Neither of which really panned out for young Steve. Those stories, while they would brighten Gracie's face always seemed to remind Steve of what he would never have again. Steve realized then that it had been weeks since he had seen the little girl and just how much that thought hurt.

It made Steve thankful the he had never had the chance to become a father. Sure, a kid would be interesting, fun and if judging by his partner's life, rewarding. Steve knew he could do it if he had ever been in relationship stable enough to produce a child and at one time he would have welcomed the experience. A son, he would have wanted a son, to teach him to surf, to spearfish, to camp and hike. And maybe, just maybe his son would want to grow up and become a Naval man like his dad or a detective like his grandfather . . . No.

No. Having a child meant disappointing them and Steve didn't think that he could stand to disappoint one more person in his life. Besides, it wasn't like he could ever take them to Sunday dinner at grandma and grandpa's; he reasoned bitterly to himself, yes, it was ideal how his life had turned out after all.

Pulling himself wearily up, Steve felt the many twinges and jabs that radiated through his muscles. He was getting too old for this shit. With a soft grunt he stood, bracing a hand against one of the guest chairs that sat in front of Kono's desk. He felt drained; this case had sucked it right from him, making him hobble like an old man as he quietly made his way to his own office.

A glance into Danny's confirmed that the blonde had return from his fridge foraging and he was still talking to his daughter on the phone. Snippets of exclamations and soft laughter edged out the crack of the open door. Steve saw a glaring white bandage wrapped around the arm that was undulating as if it was a surfboard on a short wave as it gestured along with Danny's cadence. It was just another chance for his partner to doubt him and to blame him. Two occurrences Steve would willingly accept. Because they were true.

From the doorway, Steve peered at his desk in the dark. He could barely make out a few of the items that caught the soft glowing light from Danny's office. The pen fragments, the glaringly white envelopes propped against the lamp base, the keys to the Marquis and the Camaro and as well as his office keys. The light also reflected off the glass-encasement around his grandfather's ship. He really should donate it to a museum. It was a beautiful model and shouldn't be stuck in his worthless office. Snagging a pad of sticky notes, he jotted a reminder and gently stuck it to the glass case. Steve nodded to himself as if reaffirming the notion, grasping a few items before he started for the door to the main office.

If Danny wanted to talk to him, he knows where to find me; Steve rationalized as he slowly pushed open the door and started for the stairs.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~5*0~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

He had stopped at the Camaro after Chin had dropped him off to grab his gym bag from the trunk. After talking to Steve, he had designs on cleaning up in the gym showers before heading home. It was a blessing to have the gym in the basement, not only could they all get in regular workouts, but the showers had some of the best water pressure he had ever experienced this side of The Patriot Motor-Inn, outside of Baltimore. He had simple needs by this point in time; food, shower, and an enormous cup of coffee. If he had those three, he would feel complete enough to have what he knew was going to be an uncomfortable talk with McGarrett. He just didn't know what was going on with the man. But he was going to find out. Tonight.

Danny was waiting for the elevator car to descend from the upper floor when he heard the song "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" coming from his pocket. As much as he held Stan in complete disregard, he was happy in an odd way that he deemed a nine-year-old responsible enough to have her own phone. If only so he didn't flinch every time his phone rang, thinking it was Rachel.

"Hey Monkey, how did today go? Did you have fun?" Danny felt his spirits lift as his little girl, his sweet little girl started in on the wonders of the Polynesian culture that she had discovered on her class fieldtrip to the Bishop Museum. She was describing the 'humungous' feathered cape that the King wore, 'made of the prettiest yellow and red feathers' when the elevator reached the ground floor and the doors slid open to a blessedly empty car. He got in, pushed his button and made several jabs at the 'close door' button. He wanted to be alone with his daughters' cheery voice surrounding him.

"Oh, Danno, you should have seen the shells, they were even prettier than the feathers and there was one just like the broken one I found on Uncle Steve's beach. Only that crab must have been as big as Auntie Nessa's dog. It just had to be. It was gianormous, Danno." Danny kind of lost his response at what Grace was saying. He was remembering his own comparison between that very shell and his partner. He had to stop the doors from reclosing in front of him. He hadn't even noticed them opening upon the car stopping at the floor that housed the 5-0 headquarters.

"Danno?" Grace started, her voice softening in question.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Are you okay, Daddy?"

"Yeah, Gracie, your Danno's okay." Danny felt bad for even mentally wandering away from any minute he had with his daughter.

"Did catch some bad guys today?" she asked, changing tracks mid-conversation as only a child could do. "Did you catch the mean men that hurt Kono? Did Uncle Steve beat them up?"

"No, no. Everyone is okay. Yeah. What's that?" Danny took in the darkened state of the office with a furrowed brow, where was Steve? His truck was parked next to the Camaro so he should have been up here. He peeked in the closed glass door of Steve's office. Empty. He heard his little one repeat her question. "Steve?" he chuckled lightly, "Well, Steve was a one man butt-kicking machine, monkey. He jumped higher than a kangaroo and made those bad guys so scared that they said sorry and turned themselves right in." Danny hated lying to Grace, but she really didn't need to know the particulars. He knew he would weep the day that she understood just how evil others could be. "So did you guys go to the planetarium?" And she was off.

Entering his own office, Danny flicked on the light, chasing away the shadows from the three lamps attached to the circuit. He usually thought that it was a waste of electricity, but today, he sighed wearily, today he wanted to wrap himself in the knowledge that here was nothing lurking in the darkness. Danny sat for a moment and stared out the partially open blinds as the last of the sunlight from this hellish day faded away. He listened to Gracie explain how her grandpa Williams and she were looking at different stars every night. He glanced back towards his partner's office, but it was still as dark as ink. He grabbed the three coffee cups from his desk, each holding various stages of the murky liquid, but all quite cold and started to wander to the team kitchen.

"Sure, Monkey, we can do that if you want, but what do you want to do in the evening?" She had changed the topic again, this time to what they were going to do on their next weekend. Danny flipped on the light in the kitchen with his elbow of his uninjured arm. "A movie sounds good, but can we maybe not see the one with that Beiber kid? How about the one about the lizard?" But he _knew_ that he would take his daughter to whatever film she wanted to see. She had that kind of control over him.

"Well, Gracie, Danno has to go but remember that Danno loves you." He said as he set the coffee maker to brew and reached for the refrigerator handle to see if he could find something to tide him over.

"I love you too, Danno."

"But Danno loves you more. Bye, Monkey. I'll talk to you tomorrow." And with a blown kiss across the line, she was gone. Danny couldn't believe his good fortune. How was it possible that he had lucked out and got the most wonderful kid alive? Now if his luck would hold out in the food department . . . Damn. There were some condiments and various sauce packets, a half-eaten box of take-out fried rice, a pizza box and a tinfoil wrapped mystery. Pulling out the pizza box he grimaced at the contents, two curling pieces with shriveled pineapple and three pizza bones. No, just no. There was no way.

His phone rang again as it started to vibrate its way across the counter from where he had laid it. A felt a small grin start to form, hearing the ringtone. Kono.

"Hey, how's the Hawaii's version of the Tasmanian Devil? Roundhouse any of the doctors yet?" Danny had been to see her a few times earlier in the week, but she had been too drugged up or sleeping to actually follow the conversations going on around her. If she was calling him, he deduced, then she must be feeling better.

"Hey, brah. Nah, I'm saving my energy to kick the crap outta you." Danny could hear the smile in her voice as she delivered her cheerful, yet empty threat. "So, Chin just called. Said you got the bastards. Said you got a little present from them as well. You okay?"

"Yeah. Must be tougher than you." He playfully taunted her right back. "Only had to get a few stitches. Think they were cowering in fear."

"That wasn't them cowering in fear, Danny. They were doubled up in laughter at the sight of a Jersey-jivin' ghost trussed up in a tie."

"Oh, ha-ha, Kalakaua. Don't think that since you you're still healing, I won't turn you over my knee for that kind of lip." The team had given up on the federally mandated anti-sexual harassment PC-ism somewhere in their second or third month together. They were more like a bunch of siblings bickering amongst themselves, but if an outside force had dared mess with one of them . . .yeah, it could get ugly. Well, that used to be the case, but things felt different now. Danny couldn't remember when that had happened though.

"Danny?"

"Sorry, Kono. Just lookin' for something to eat. You know we got nothing but bio-hazard in the fridge? Think I might have to call in Haz-Mat." Danny leaned back against the counter and stared at the last of the coffee dripping into the carafe. "So, you know I'm just kiddin', right? _You_ took on those shits alone, I, at least had Chin and McGarrett. But, seriously, um, you alright? Nothing short of a full recovery, right?"

"Danny." Kono's voice, its merry quality gone, seemed more serious than he had ever heard it. "I'm fine. _Really_. Sure, I'm going to have to do some physio, but otherwise nothing permanently damaged. I'll be back before you know it."

"Chin said that your mom, well, I guess most of the family, doesn't want you to come back."

"Chin talks too much."

Danny couldn't hold back the snort if he had had a gun in face. "Yeah, I discovered that today."

Danny could hear some rustling through the line; she must have been rearranging her casted leg on the bed. There was a dull thud followed by a distant grunt her standard swearing. "Kono?" He filled up the last clean mug from the cupboard and wandered back to his office.

"Sorry, tried to reach my water and dropped the phone." She sounded slightly winded, like she had just raced up a series of flights of stairs. Hell, Danny thought, I would be wheezing like a three-pack-a-day smoker. "Chin said that he had a touch of teenage girl in him when he took you home. He sounded really down, Danny. I haven't heard him sound like that in a long time. Not since that first Christmas . . . when the family . . . well, it's been quite a while, let's say."

"Yeah. I got it. We've all been floundering a bit. This case is really doin' a number on us all." He sat at his desk and turned towards the windows again, but there was just darkness beyond the slats of the blinds. "I really don't know . . ."

"Chin will be okay, Danny. He's just tired and kinda sore at the world right now. I asked him about Steve and he told me that he has pretty much severed most of their contact. Boy, I ripped into him but good about that. That's no way for _ohana_ to act." Her voice had a steely twinge to it. "Steve's hurting just as bad as any of us. Maybe more."

"He's been off a bit, Kono. Well, actually quite a lot. It's like he can't seem to see the endgame, and he's on some nonstop loop, just constantly moving and only arriving at the beginning again."

"Did you know that he got hurt same day as me? Had to get a few stitches across his hip, where he got kicked by somebody's stupid tricked-out boot."

Danny audibly gasped at his teammate's revelation; he nearly dropped the phone from its place tucked below his ear on the undamaged side of his neck as he waved his hands about at nobody. "When did he? I mean, I was with him most of that day; we never went to the hospital except to be with you. It was nearly ten at night when I dropped him at home. He didn't have tim-"

"I saw them, Danny. On Tuesday, when I was finally able to stay awake for more than an hour," Kono's voice took on the bitterness that usually came with a normally healthy person being forced into a hospital stay. "He flinched, when he bent over to talk to me. He couldn't hide it and I made him show me. There were over half a dozen stitches there. I saw them. They looked pretty angry, too."

Danny felt the question niggling at his tongue. He wanted to ask Chin when it first popped into his mind in the car, but he didn't want to raise any suspicions then, but now he knew he had to ask it or it would keep burrowing deeper into his soul. "Um, Kono? Did you . . . ah, are you and . . ." He felt his throat constricting.

"Our Danny, at a loss for words." Kono interrupted with a touch of wonderment. "Come on, you can do it." She chided softly.

"No. I mean, yeah I can, but I don't really want to."

"What is it, Danny?" She heard him draw in a breath. "Danny?"

"I . . . Chin said that, um McGarrett had been to see you a lot. Day and night, a lot. Are you and he . . . ah, I mean . . . do you two have a . . . you know, a thing." He cursed himself for his herky-jerky sentence and got up from his chair to pace his office.

"Steve? Me and Steve? Danny, No. Not just no, but _NO_. He was worried, you all were, I know, and you all came to see me when you could. A thing, Danny?" She gave a small laugh as if to gently mock him for his juvenile question. "If you are asking if Steve McGarrett and I are romantically involved I can without any doubt in my mind say that the answer is no. Would I if I could? hmmm," Danny listened to her hum as if pondering a scenario. "I don't think so; we may be a little too similar while being a little too different, if that makes any sense. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's got interest in someone else."

Danny let the air out of his lungs. He hadn't realized that he was holding his breath. A slightly embarrassed chuckle escaped as well. "I'm sorry. I just, well Chin made it sound like . . .ah, I'm an ass. Look forget I asked. Please? I'm just trying to figure out what's up with Steve is all." He decided not to ask about the 'someone else.'

"What is up with Steve?" Kono asked curiosity piqued with Danny's fumbling words. He didn't come in last night or today for that matter. He's been here a lot and when I last saw him he said he would be back soon."

"I don't know, he –" Danny stopped talking when he finally noticed the case folder beneath his coffee cup. Sliding it out and opening it, he knew that if anyone was watching him right now he would look like he had just gotten the world's biggest brain freeze.

It was the Washui case file. Steve had completed his share of the paperwork and everything was properly typed and printed. It was pristine. The 'I's were dotted and the 'T's were crossed. And everything was signed. "Danny? Danny, what's wrong? Danny, answer me. Do I need to call Chin? Danny?" He could vaguely hear Kono's queries, but he was suddenly at a loss. It wasn't until he heard her shout that he answered.

"It's done."

"What? Danny? Come on, brah, What's done?"

"The Washui case. Your case. McGarrett finished the paperwork, Kono. This case is finally over. I mean, sure Chin and I have to put in our versions and ballistics and everything, but it's done. Do you see what I mean when I say something's been up with McGarrett? He has finished the paperwork without being threatened with a good shooting." Danny didn't realize just how much anxiety this case had held over him until now. He felt his back start to release its tension and his shoulders dropping.

"Well, Danny, I would recommend a six-pack, maybe some take-out, and a trip to Steve's." Kono's voice took on a beguiling lilt. "Give the boss a hug for me. And Danny? Let's all of us get together sometime this week, yeah? I miss you guys. See ya soon, brah." Danny didn't even get a chance to say goodbye as the line went dead.

He would finish his write-ups tomorrow he decided, but first a shower, then yeah, he thought that Kono's suggestions seemed like an A-one, first class plan. He grabbed his bag and headed to the basement.

Thirty minutes later, Danny reemerged in the offices; he felt the cleanest he had been in what seemed like weeks. The stink of this ever-expanding case had been carried down the drain with the grime of the docks and the anxiousness of too many short nights. He felt lighter than he had in days, weeks in fact. With a little bounce to his step, Danny entered his office and pulled a clean button down from his supply in the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet. He wondered were Steve was. He wasn't in the gym or the showers, nor obviously the tiny kitchen. Slipping it on his shirt over his undershirt, he strolled from his office and headed for Steve's. Maybe he was napping on the couch and hadn't heard Danny come in. The buoyancy was dropped from Danny's pace when he reached out and turned on the light.

What the hell? Steve wasn't there, but he obviously had been sometime in the last twelve hours. It looked as if a small bomb had gone off on his partners' desk. At first, Danny thought that someone had ransacked the place, but everything outside of the desk looked as it should. So it had to be the man, himself that wrought this carnage. The desk top it's self was littered with tiny pieces of plastic and metal, that upon closer inspection had once been a pen from the fancy desk set that normally sat on the corner. Of course the generous amount of ink covering papers and folders would have brought him to the same conclusion.

A flash of yellow caught the corner of his eye and Danny looked at the sticky note on the model ship in the glass case behind his desk. It was written in Steve's jagged printing 'Donate – Bishop'. The note caused Danny to wrinkle his brow even further. He had asked Steve about the ship when he had helped him carry it into the office. Steve treasured it. So why would he want to donate it? Danny was confused.

He turned around again and glanced back at the desk. There were four envelopes leaning against the base of the lamp. He picked them up and was disappointed to see that they were sealed. They were each addressed with a single name; one each for Chin, Kono, Mary, and Governor Jameson. What about me, Steve? Danny's mind reeled at the exclusion. He begrudgingly placed them back where he found them, not that he would have read them, but, well, maybe he would have, he thought mulishly.

Danny looked back down at the desk and started logging its appearance in his brain. Besides the letters and the pen fragments, there were a few sets of keys; a couple of coffee cups from the diner around the corner, a photo frame lay on its face. Danny tipped it up, but he knew it was a photo of the entire McGarrett family taken when Steve was around seven; he was missing a front tooth, something he proudly showed from the circle of his mother's arms and Mary had been but a chubby toddler clutching at her dad's fingers. They all looked happy. Danny replaced the picture where it usually stood and noticed that in its prone state it had covered a couple of pill bottles, one nearly empty and the other about half full. Fuck, Danny reprimanded himself for his shortsightedness, he really was hurt.

Danny jammed the bottles into his pocket and stormed from Steve's office. He stopped in his own long enough to grab his phone, keys, and weapon and to turn off the light. He was going to get to the bottom of the McGarrett mystery right now. What at first felt like missing connections now seemed to resonate as complete avoidance. Well, Danny thought, fuck that. He didn't care what it took, but he was going to get Steve to talk. And they were going to do it right fucking now. Danny headed for the Camaro.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer : The persons and characters within this fic belong to CBS and their holding companies. I have done this story for no profit and do not hope to. The title is from the song "Mad World" as sung by Gary Jules, no harm intended.

**Chapter 5: I Find it Hard to Tell You, I Find it Hard to Take**

Steve stopped at the convenience store a couple of miles from his house and picked up a frozen meal and a bag of trail mix, he and the owner were had been friendly before Steve had left Hawaii in his youth, not close, but they held a connection through surfing. It wasn't until Steve had moved back into his parents' house and he had taken to doing most of his grocery shopping there, that a rapport had been formed.

He stood in the beer aisle for several minutes trying to decide if he should really get some or not or if he should head across the street and pick up something a bit more comforting. He glanced out the window at the blinking neon signs gracing the front of the liquor store. He may have stood there all night staring if it weren't for the trio of punks standing at the opposite end of the aisle from him, heads ducked in what was undoubtedly some nefarious conference; voices barely staying within the confines of the little huddle. Fuck. He really didn't need this tonight.

He looked up towards the counter; Kaipo, the man operating the register was probably about fifteen years older than Steve, but due to his wife's home cooking, was about a hundred pounds above fighting trim. He was as gregarious as many of the native islanders were. He ran the shop with his wife and her brother, each taking turns at charming the tourists and townies alike. Hell, he had even spotted Steve some groceries when he had left his wallet in the glove compartment of the Camaro and Danny had driven home with it. They were gracious people and didn't deserve this.

Steve bowed his head a little and sighed like he couldn't make up his mind. Should he risk getting yet another person hurt? One of the hoodlums was starting to make frantic hand gestures at the others. The leader then, Steve noted silently. He was no doubt indicating how it all was going to go down to his flunkies. They will never learn, Steve thought of his gun on the opposite hip from the wannabe gangsters. Did he want to use it? No, but . . . Steve sighed again and drew his phone out of his pocket.

"Honolulu Police Services, how may I direct your call?"

Steve turned to the teens, standing tall as if he were in front of a superior and looked each in the eye in turn. "This is McGarrett, 5-0. Yeah, I'm at Kaipo's Kwiki-A-Hele on the corner of Waimanu and Dreier. I have reason to believe that here may be either a possible robbery and/or homicide about to go down." He lifted his eyebrows slightly to the punks in challenge. Two had stopped their shifting and stared at Steve. The other, the leader, started to twitch and jerk as if he honestly had ants in his pants. Figures.

He halfway expected him to pull a weapon and go all crazy on him. And why shouldn't he, really? He knew he looked like warmed over death no matter how he tried to hide it. Hell, his eyes probably had the same half-crazy glint that Twitchy's had. Who did he think he was? Christ, Danny and Chin were right, he only thought about the outcome and not those involved. He could get both Kaipo and himself killed, just because of some holier-than-thou mentality. Slowly drawing in a breath, Steve felt his biceps start tense minutely, causing the muscle of his right shoulder start to tic in pre-spasm. He could sense his soul caving to the possibility of dying. He knew then what he was going to do, he was going to put up his hands and hope for the best.

"Sir, I've dispatched a squad to your address, they should be arriving shor-"

Steve didn't hear the rest of the dispatchers' statement, but neither did the youths. They were too busy rushing past him, knocking him back into the magazine rack behind him and slamming the door open to flee. He let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding and thumbed the end button on his phone. He walked to the counter and laid down his trail mix and frozen chicken'n'cheese enchilada delight or whatever the hell it was and turned towards the door.

"Steve?" The portly man called out, but Steve just kept going, he wasn't hungry anymore. He just couldn't keep doing this. And what was _this _anyway? It wasn't living that was for damn sure. He was going to die or worse get someone else killed. No, he wanted to stop whatever_ this_ was right the hell now. He _needed_ to. What he needed to do was to take himself out of the equation before he had more blood on his hands.

Steve climbed into the truck and started for home. His thoughts started to flit from the events of the raid today to the tense moments a few minutes ago. Faces swam around his mind, taunting him; Chin, the teens back at the store, the Chinese man in the torn blue tee, Governor Jameson, the drug runners, Mr. Washui, Danny, Kaipo, himself. Steve felt tears starting to build again. He couldn't tell who the enemy was anymore. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but he was frightened of what he would find behind his eyelids. Besides he was driving, wouldn't Danny have a heyday with that accident report? Steve could almost hear him now,

_'You killed someone because you were scared and closed your eyes. The fuck, McGarrett, you were scared. You? Scared? Do sharks, mean anything to you? Grenades ring a bell? Christ, Rambo, are you a pansy? No, tell me. Are you an idiot? No, don't speak. I'll tell you what you are. You're a fucking moron is what you are.'_

Steve gasped, or at least tried to when he realized his imagined patented Danny rant was entirely plausible as to what the blonde would say. He struggled to breathe in again, but when he realized that he wasn't able to pull anymore air into his lungs he bumped the truck to a sliding stop along the shoulder. Foot jammed on the break; he laid his head down on the white knuckles on the steering wheel. Stop it, he muttered to himself. stop it. stop it, stop it, stopit, . Stop It. STOP IT. STOP! IT! He repeated it over and over again, voice going from a muttering whisper until it filled the cab of the truck, cancelling out the white noise rushing in his ears.

Sitting there in his Chevy on the dark shoulder, Steve willed his mind to go blank, but it wasn't working. He thought back to his mini-breakdown earlier today at the hospital. How had he overcome that one? Oh. He started panicking for breath again. Yeah, he knew he couldn't use the same diversion he used earlier. That tactic would never work again. Danny hated him. Danny was probably on his way right now to yell at him some more; coming to accuse him of being an ass with a death wish. Steve thought he should more than likely just call his partner and tell him to never mind, that he could do the job all by himself.

Noticing that he was able to breathe slightly better now and the tears that had threatened to fall had receded as well. He drew in a few more shaky breaths and pulled back onto the road. He would go home and wait.

Maybe he would take a swim; he hadn't even been able to fit in his morning training lately. Not that he didn't have time, but because he couldn't drag his fatigued body from his bed. Swimming did sound awful good though, that would pass the time until Danny arrived, but the weather was picking up so maybe not. He could do some more paperwork that needed to be done, but he wasn't excited at the prospect. He just knew that he needed something to occupy his mind until his partner put in an appearance. Because Danny would show up, of that Steve had no doubt.

As Steve cautiously navigated the big Chevy around a few bicyclists with blinking taillights, he thought about what Danny would lead off with. How Steve was a fuck up or how he didn't come to the hospital? But he should know that Steve _had_ come to the hospital by know. Hell, Chin had met with him and probably gave him a ride back to HQ. Surely the Hawaiian had described in glorious detail, just how backwards Steve had acted, like one of those geeks at the sci-fi convention a few weeks ago.

Could Danny still be upset with the treatment of the undercover op? Steve didn't know if he had talked to Kono yet. But even without talking to her, he knew that Danny could hold a grudge. Kono on the other hand had forgiven him the minute she could speak again. She, out of all them seemed to get that Steve wasn't completely sure in his handling of this case.

They hadn't talked about it as such, but she would look at him with the one big brown eye that wasn't still swollen shut and he could see that it was filled with pity and he would freeze up. He just couldn't find his voice. He couldn't admit his flaws and failures to her. If he did, she would never trust him again. Not that she should, he harangued himself. No, the only time this case or any case had arose any of the times he had visited Kono, was when she badgered him into showing her the stitches on his hip. They didn't talk about that much either. It just seemed that she could sense his weakness and he wasn't entirely sure, but that he was glad she could. It felt as if an infinitesimal amount of weight was lifted from him. It wasn't enough, but it was a start.

Steve pulled onto the quieter Pi'ikoi from South King and drove beneath the tall palms that lined the street until he pulled into the drive. Shifting into park he stared at his parent's home. He couldn't bring himself to calling it his yet, it just didn't feel right. He had always loved this house, its lush yard that seemed to always have so many varieties of flowers in bloom when he was a kid. Switching off the engine he stared out at the front of the house gleaming in the partial moonlight, surrounded by the vast amounts of vegetation. It was strange that the violence this house had been though since it was built, it still appeared to be quaint, comfortable even.

He thought of the bush right outside the front door. His dad had let Steve help pick it out when he was nine. Nearly Gracie's age, he thought. It was the Mothers' Day gift from him and Mary that year. He had picked out the one at the nursery with the biggest blooms he could find, so sure that his mom would love them. Which she had, but when those blooms had withered and fell away within the first few days of planting, Steve had been crestfallen. But his mother had simply placed her arms around her son with his bottom lip quivering and reassured him that he had made a good selection, that the blooms would be bigger and better the next year. Steve quirked a half-smile through his unshed tears at the memory. She was right. She was always right.

Sliding from the cab, Steve walked gingerly up the steps to the front of the house. He stopped briefly and looked to the sky as it lit up with a flash of lightening, but the thunder was far off and faint. Continuing he thought that no matter how many days he had made this particular walk up the front step, it never failed to disappoint him that his mom wasn't on the other side of the door. Sure, he missed his dad as well, but this house, with its yard and it beach represented his mom. It was where she would always be and he would always feel closest to her.

He could remember the sound of her voice as she sang old Beatle's tunes when she cleaned. She would always wake them up on Sunday mornings with the buttery coconut smell of _Pani Popo_ fresh from the oven. Even now, Steve could taste it on the back of his tongue, the sweet milky sauce sliding down his throat. He wondered if Mary remembered the _Pani Popo. _

Maybe he would call Mary and ask. But he dismissed the thought as quickly as it entered his mind. The last few times he had called just to chat and catch up, she either didn't answer the phone and had sent a text a few days later with the phrase *I'm fine. How are you?* or she would answer but would always be in a rush to get off and on with her life. Steve resigned himself to the knowledge that she had grown up without an older brother and found that having one now was merely an inconvenience; a dilemma to be dealt with on major holidays only.

Sighing, he unlocked the door and disarmed the alarm. How he wished that this homecoming was different than yesterdays and the day before that.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~5*0~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

Danny bit back colorful words that threatened to spill out at the pain from his stitched up arm when he bumped it on the door in his hurried attempt to leave the office. He poked the button repeatedly for the elevator, but found himself to be too impatient. Striding over to the stairs he started down them at the most strident clip he could muster. He thought the shower would have loosened his muscles, but perhaps they were just too worn-out to be pacified by his half-assed ministrations.

He exited the final set of doors only to be slapped in the throat by the sultry sea air that wrapped around the island. His breath caught as he slowed his stride. He didn't think he would ever get used to the humidity here. Sure, New Jersey had humidity, but it didn't seem to be as strangling as the tropical version he was experiencing here. He walked as briskly as he could to the car, eyeing the night sky. He knew they were forecasting thunderstorms tonight, hell, when weren't they, but he couldn't feel the change yet of the barometer dropping.

He stopped cold several paces away from the car, causing a small green Prius to swerve around him, but he only stared at the parking space next to the Camaro completely oblivious to the scowl being aimed at him. Where the hell was Steve's truck? It was here when Chin dropped him off, he was positive. It was, he knew that much. He knew it like he knew that he disliked warm pineapple or that Springsteen _is_ the boss or that the sky _was_ fucking blue. So where was it now? An even more troubling question was where was its owner?

Danny finished walking to the car, pressing the button to unlock it. He slid in and slid the seat forward like he did every time he drove his own car. He looked back at the empty space next to it. Had Steve been in the office when he spoke with Kono, he wondered, had he heard him asking the rookie about their relationship? Fuck. For everybody's sake, Danny really hoped that Steve hadn't heard that. He started the engine with a roar and pulled out of the nearly empty lot.

He knew by the time of day that it would take him at least twenty minutes to get to the McGarrett residence, longer if he wanted to get some food. And he wanted some food . . . and beer. This talk with Steve would definitely go better with beer or maybe even some whisky. Feeling himself torn between his baser instincts and just getting to Steve as fast as possible, Danny thought on possible solutions as he signaled to pull onto the highway.

He hadn't eaten since before the raid, which went down at least nine hours ago. Steve was always teasing him for how much his life centered around food, but it was what comforted him when he was feeling out of sorts. And if he wasn't out of sorts right now, he was well on his way. He spotted the brightly lit sign of a pizza parlor on a frontage road and gave himself a brilliant idea. He would call for pizza now and stop at the liquor store a couple of miles from Steve's place. That way he and the pizza should be there about the same time . . . and they would have beverages. Danny mentally high-fived himself for his problem solving ability as he pulled his phone from his shirt pocket. Now if only the rest of the night would go as well.

Pulling into the lot that adjoined the liquor store, Danny glanced over at Kaipo's. There were two squad cars pulled right up to the doors and the big man, himself was regaling something to the uniformed policemen with panache that only Kaipo could possess. His hands were point here and there while his head bobbed first left then right then left again. He started to cross over but as he reached the curb, he envisioned a grinning Steve leaning against the counter the first time he introduced Danny to the Islander.

_"Danny, this is Kaipo, he owns the joint –"_

_"Hence the name on the sign." Danny cut him off, it wasn't like he couldn't read._

_"Hence the name on the sign." Steve replied in a pacifying tone, "He also used to be one of the best surfboard builders around. If you got a Kaipo, you had better be damned serious about the sport." Kaipo just nodded and bumped Steve's extended fist with a hand sporting only two fingers. Danny didn't ask._

_"Sport, I don't know if I would go so far as t-" Danny was cut off mid snark by the native himself._

_"No make li'dat. It's be a sport, _haole_, believe you me, bruddah. Iz seen the likes o'ya go downz hard." Kaipo's teeth gleamed white in contrast to his sun leathered skin._

_Clasping his hands together in mock prayer, Danny felt his eyebrows shoot straight up. "I'm sorry? Steve what'd he just say?"_

_"He said that surfers are tougher than football players." Steve lied, grinning as if his two best friends in the world decided to form the Steve McGarrett Fan Club._

_"No. He didn't." Danny started to scowl at them both as they cracked up. "Did he?"_

Watching the Kwiki-A-Hele owner now, gesturing like a madman made Danny remember how much he liked the man. He was a lot like Kamekona, but a bit more law-abiding, Danny was sure of it. Sure he would tease him about being a mainlander and wearing ties, pretty much like everyone else, but he had stopped calling him _haole_ when Steve had intervened on Danny's behalf. It also made him recall the blinding smile that had graced his partners' face, one, now that he thought about he hadn't seen in awhile.

Shaking his head, the detective turned and walked into the liquor store. If HPD was gone when he came out, he thought, maybe I'll head over and make sure everything is alright. He just didn't feel like having to defend his partner right now, something he knew he would have to do after this morning. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked to see if Steve had called or responded to the text Danny shot him before he pulled out of the parking lot at headquarters. But there was nothing, but a picture of his happy Monkey.

He strode up the beer aisle and grabbed for a couple of six packs of Fire Rock from the cooler. He started for the counter before he remembered and backtracked to grab a bottle of Jameson's. Whisky you could shoot without feeling guilty about it, his dad used to say and he knew that he could use a couple of shots right now. Pivoting again, he made for the counter where a tiny, weathered old man was reading an extremely dog-eared copy of The Swiss Family Robinson. Hell, Danny thought appraising the man; he looks like he lived it.

"That all?" Danny's eyes widened at the deep baritone. The people that lived on this pile of stones never ceased to amaze him.

"Yeah." He replied, "So what happened over there?" Danny nodded through the wire-enforced glass of the door.

"Eh, some guy stopped a robbery and then took off like his ass was afire. $28.39. Bag?"

Danny stared out the door as one of the squad cars backed out and pulled away. "Sorry? Oh, ah, no, I got it." He hand the guy his credit card and waited while he swiped it. "Everyone okay?"

The old man just shrugged and shoved the receipt over for Danny to sign along with his card. Shoving it back in his wallet, Danny mumbled a thanks as he grabbed his things to go. The counter guy just nodded and picked up his book again.

Back on the sidewalk, Danny hesitated before heading to the car. He felt that being a cop and also Kaipo's friend, well, his kinda, sorta friend, he should go over and make sure all was truly well. But the need to find Steve had been ratcheting up all afternoon. He decided that he would stop in the next day or so and see how the big man was. Getting to Steve's and getting to the bottom of whatever the fuck that was going on with him was definitely a priority. Lightening lit up the sky, making Danny jump not that he would admit to it if pressed, but thunderstorms kind of freaked him out, especially on this tropical lump of land. He cursed under his breath at every meteorologist that was ever right; so like, three or so, he snorted to himself.

Pulling the car out of the parking lot, Danny again felt a slight stab of guilt for not looking towards the little convenience store, but he knew if he did, he would pull over and he didn't really have the time. Somehow worrying about what was up with Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett, 5-0 Task Force Team Leader had morphed into anxiety about Steve, the man. Sure, Danny has always been considered the worrier of the team, but this was different. This was way too personal to not investigate.

Traffic thinned out the further he drove, but Danny felt his shoulders start tensing more the closer he came to Pi'ikoi Street. He had made some decisions when had taken his shower at the station, but those would depend completely on Steve. If he was willing to sit and listen, then Danny was sure he could get him to understand what he was saying and why. He knew that Steve had to feel the same thing he did, about how their partnership was at once strangely unique and horrifyingly irregular. But if Steve wouldn't listen, then Danny didn't think that he could follow through with what for him was the biggest leap of faith in his life.

But all that would have to wait, of course. First he had to get Steve to acknowledge that this case had come dreadfully close to tearing the team apart and fixing that was going to take every team member's full cooperation. Turning onto Pi'ikoi Street, Danny was thankful that he had spoken with both Chin and Kono earlier. Chin scared him, but that lopsided conversation had really helped Danny understand where the older man was coming from. And Kono, sweet but damaged Kono had reaffirmed and bolstered Danny's resolve to find a solution for both the teams' problems as well as his more personal ones.

Turning the Camaro into the McGarrett drive behind Steve's Chevy, Danny felt his bravado drain away, leaving him agape in amazement. Every light in the house was on, including the garage. And the front door was standing open. Fucking McGarrett, he had better have a damn good reason for this or at least a bullet hole somewhere.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~5*0~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

Pulling his gun from the glove compartment, Danny unholstered it and slowly opened the car door. There was a hint of moisture finally in the air as he scurried up to the truck to use it as cover. Inching his way forward he peeked in the garage windows, there was no movement, but one of the unending doors of the Marquis hung open. A length of rope lay across the hood. He ducked and hustled to the front door. He knew he should call back-up, but this _was _Steve. He didn't have it in him to wait. He would readily accept whatever hazing that befell him for his haste, Danny swallowed audibly, just let Steve be okay.

Taking a steadying breath, he whirled around the door into the living room and trained his gun on the most obvious spots to hide and the open doorways. Thank fucking God I know this house, he groused in a whisper to nobody as he eased the door shut behind him. The alarm had been deactivated, so that was probably Steve.

He ducked into the den next, his eye straying to the very spot Steve's dad had died first, just like it did every time he was in here. The room was clear, but something on the desk drew his attention. In pieces, were the parts to at least three guns. They were scattered and mixed up. The metal gleaming in the light from the desk lamp. Danny frowned; Steve would never leave his guns like that. He looked again and noticed that beneath them was an envelope with 'Danny' printed in Steve's handwriting. Danny was really unsure how to take it that his note, letter, fucking ticket to the fucking circus or whatever was here and not with the others. He slid it out gently and shoved it into the pocket with the forgotten pill bottles.

He eased his way to the kitchen, empty, but there was a pizza box on the table, still fairly warm. He wasn't particularly hungry anymore. The bathroom that opened off the kitchen revealed no crazy fiends of either the friend or foe variety. He tried the French doors to the lanai, but they were locked tight, keeping the now whipping rain at bay. At least he isn't out swimming in this, the dumbass. He returned to the living room and peeked up the stairs. Closing his eyes for a moment he somehow knew that he was going to find his partner up there. Chin's comment about 'hearing Steve die' suddenly came back to him and he felt a retch building within him.

Steeling himself for the worse he crept up the stairs. Four doors all either open or slightly ajar was all he could see from the landing.

The door to Mary's old room stood open at the top of the stairs, nothing seemed amiss. Nothing except the bed looking like it had been on the receiving end of a piñata explosion. It was covered with a myriad of colorful trinkets, figurines of animals and people alike in addition to a few dolls still in boxes and a handful of small jewelry boxes. What the hell?

Danny continued to the master bedroom across the hall, a quick peek showed that Steve's dress uniform lay across his bed, the plastic from the dry cleaners lay tangled around the hanger on the floor. Danny could feel the tears starting to fall from the corner of his eyes. Something was wrong, so very wrong. No matter what anyone said or implied about his partner, his boss, his friend, he would never, _never_ treat his uniform like that. He only brought it out for special occasions, like Kono's graduation. Or funerals. Fuck.

He hurried across the hall to make a cursory glance in the bathroom, but what he saw nearly brought him to his knees. There were at least twelve prescription pill bottles and several of the over-the-counter kind scattered across the vanity. None of them had a lid attached. Using the wall to support himself, Danny edged closer. There wasn't a single pill in any of the bottles or on the counter, just a fine powder where they had once rubbed up against each other.

He sat down on the edge of the tub to get his bearings, he didn't care right now if it made him a target or not, because he was pretty sure that there was no intruder. Just a very troubled man that wouldn't, or couldn't ask for help from his blind-ass team; Danny hated himself more, right at this instant than he ever had, even when Rachel had served him with divorce papers. He had failed his friend and in the process had broken not only his own heart, but that of his team mates and his daughter and countless others that counted Steve among their friends. He knew he had to check the last room, but only because he had to be there for his friend, to make sure that he had passed with dignity.

Rising carefully, Danny raised his hand and glided it against the smooth surface. It quaked fleetingly in time with his heart. The wall was more support than he deserved, he knew, but it was comforting nonetheless. He stood in the doorway of Steve's childhood room for a full minute, before it registered. The room was empty, the bed was made, nothing seemed to be out of place. Where the hell was Steve? Raising his bandaged forearm up to wipe his running nose, Danny turned and propped himself up against the wall in the hall. Maybe he should call for reinforcements; maybe he was too blinded by grief and . . . and love to actually see what was right in front of him. He had to have missed him somewhere, but where?

He stepped into the room again and took in the full affect of Steve as a teen. The awards were layered on a cork board above a tidy desk. Every inch of space on the shelves above was covered by a trophy of some type. They glittered dully in their dust covered state. A poster nearly identical to the one that hung in Kono's office, hung over a bed covered with a quilt of faded red, green, and blue. At the foot of the bed was a dresser with a cracked mirror above it.

Danny stepped closer to the mirror to look at the damage. It seemed strange to him the neither Jack McGarrett or Steve would have replaced it. He looked at his own face and saw the still leaking red nose and his eyes, usually a bright blue were cloudy and just as red. He looked so fucking tired. He rubbed at his nose again with his arm and blinked to clear his eyes. He saw the knife imbedded in the wall next to the mirror at the same time he saw the bowed dark head reflecting back at him.

Whirling, Danny just stared, not daring to breathe or speak. He knew he had to confirm, but Steve strangely looked serene, finally at peace sitting there curled around himself. Lightning flashed outside the window again, this time followed by a resounding clap of thunder. But Danny just continued to stare. Slowly he crept forward and knelt before his fallen leader. The shame started in the pit of his stomach, rising quickly to consume him. How could he have failed him? He wanted to scream, to shout, to lash out at anyone, everyone. But he just whispered one word. "Steve."

"Danny" came a shuttering reply.

The next moment Danny found himself on his ass clean across the room. You scurry when a ghost speaks to you, Danny's mind reeled as heart was beating so hard his shirt must have looked like a flag rippling in the wind. He stared with his mouth forming a perfect 'O', eyes wider than that. Steve had lifted his head and stared right back. But it wasn't the Steve that Danny was used to, this was the broken shell Steve, the one that that wouldn't or couldn't . . .

"Danny, I . . . need . . . help. I'm not . . . Danny, help me . . . Please?"

A/N: So I was going to just leave it hanging in the great unknown, but then I remembered how much I hate those. I would rather spend the next chapter with a certain pair trying to fix what is broken. Thanks all who have read this angst-apooloza and a very big huggy filled thank you to all that have been kind enough to review. I have tried to take your suggestions and make them work. I hope I haven't done your wisdom a disservice in the process. Thanks again. - stella


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer : The persons and characters within this fic belong to CBS and their holding companies. I have done this story for no profit and do not hope to gain any. The story title is from "Mad World as sung by Gary Jules. The chapter title is from "Shut Us Down" by Lindsey Buckingham.

**Chapter 6: To Hide the Truth You Try to Find**

Previously:

"_Steve."_

"_Danny" came a shuttering reply._

_The next moment Danny found himself on his ass clean across the room. You scurry when a ghost speaks to you. Danny's mind reeled as heart was beating so hard he felt that his shirt must have looked like a flag whipping in the wind. He stared, his mouth forming a perfect 'O', eyes wider than that. Steve had lifted his head and stared right back. But it wasn't the Steve that Danny was used to, this was the broken shell Steve, the one that that wouldn't or couldn't . . ._

"_Danny, I . . . need . . . help. I'm not . . . Danny, help me . . . Please?"_

"S-steve?" Danny cursed himself for not keeping the wavering from his voice. Clearing his throat, he tried again a bit stronger. "Steve?" He stared at his partner, feeling numb being in the presence of a man so noticeably savaged and by what he had no idea; he just knew that it didn't make it any less frightening, the unknown. Steve sat awkwardly wedged between the bed and the wall, one knee pulled tighter than the other to his chest, held limply with arms extending from absurdly slumping shoulders. His head, once hanging low as Danny had witnessed in the mirror, was now cocked ungracefully back against the faded blue wall, cantered to the side, forcing a squint into his eyes.

"Danny . . ." Steve started. "I . . .you . . ." Danny watched Steve swallow several times, as if he were trying to force down the gravel that appeared to be lodged in his throat. He rocked his head from right to left and back again. Danny watched his lolling head apprehensively while rapidly calculating the subtle variations in his friends' appearance. The long, dark eyelashes seemed to disappear into the blackness that marred the thin skin beneath Steve's eyes. His standard ensemble now resembled a daily look for one of their suspects, rather than befitting a SEAL slash Task Force leader. His cargos were filthy, stained with how many days worth of grime Danny hated to determine, while the v-neck of his blue tee was stretched to near shapelessness and it was also just as tainted.

Danny shifted from his place on the floor, near the foot of the bed. Rocking forward lightly, he felt the pill bottles, forgotten in his pocket, dig into his hip uncomfortably, pulling him from the disquieting stupor he had been in. His mind raced back a few moments ago to the empty bottles in the bathroom. Scrambling to his hands and knees, he clambered over to kneel in front of his friend and pulled Steve's head roughly from the wall; his cheeks felt hollow beneath Danny's palms. "Steve. Jesus, Steve. What did you do? Huh, Come on. How much? Huh? Why, babe, why?" Danny could feel the hysteria bubbling up from his chest as he shook his partners head. "STEVE!"

Steve felt as if he had no place to hide anymore. His head was caught in the vice-like grip of Danny's hands as his partner loomed above him. He couldn't look away as his partner's thumbs caught at his eyelids, forcing them open. He determined that the words to reply must have dried out on his tongue, causing it to act as a glue, preventing him from opening his mouth to try and warn Danny off.

"Steven. Steve McGarrett. How much?" Danny wanted to shake the man until every fucking pill came right back out. What the hell was he thinking? Didn't he know that he had people who cared for him? Wanted to be around him? With him? "How many pills, Steve?"

Trying to catch up to Danny's questions, Steve blinked swiftly, but the blonde wasn't making it easy to do, what with the shouting and shaking and prodding and all. He knew he must have looked frightening for Danny to look as scared as he did. He was just tired and with a good night's sleep he would answer Danny's questions tomorrow. He had never felt this exhausted before. Nattering on about the pills . . .oh. It dawned on him what was going through his partner's mind about the same time he felt the sting of Danny's palm against his cheek causing his head to ricochet back into the plaster wall. "No. No pill . . . toil-"

"WHAT, Steve? What did you say? Come on, babe, talk to me? Repeat that."

"No pills. Didn't want them." Steve tensed his jaw and closed his eyes as he readied himself for another slap. "Flush . . .flushed them." He cracked opened his eyes again when the expected abuse didn't happen. "I, um, I didn't want them D. They weren't . . . I wasn't right. Danny? I'm . . . I . . . scared. I got scared and I -"

Danny cut him off, pulling him away from the wall to embrace him. He felt his mind emptying of everything else but a running mantra of 'Thank God, Thank God, Thank God.'

What? Steve's brain was confused at the change in Danny's handling of him, a hug was better than the shaking, that he knew. He also knew that he didn't deserve it; that he should pull away and _make_ Danny leave. But he couldn't find the resistance within himself to do so. It was warm and comforting being cradled against Danny's broad chest. It was safe. He was starting to allow himself to relax into it when it all crashed down around him again.

"What the fuck, Steve?" Danny shoved Steve away from him vehemently. He watched Steve's face crumple as he hit the wall, but he was too confused, too concerned, too angry to care right now. "What are you doing? Huh? Did you think that by scaring me you could just . . . You know what? I should just kick your ass right now. I could, we both know it. How dare you! I come here to help you and find you . . .I don't know what you're doing but it's going to stop. You hear me, McGarrett? You are going to knock this shit off right fuckin' now!" Danny had backed away enough to stand. He had to calm down or he was actually going to do it. He was going to kick this man's ass. He turned to pace the small room.

Steve dropped his head low again and steeled himself for the reaming he deserved. His shoulder and back ached from where they struck the wall, but that was minor compared to the pain he had caused Danny. He remembered what Danny's eyes had looked like when he was shaking him. He was scared of him. He actually thought that Steve would hurt him. Steve winced at the realization that his friend was scared of him and started to pull his legs up into his chest. He should explain to Danny that he needn't be scared, that he had taken the necessary steps and filled in the proper forms, so in the very near future, he would be safer than he had been in the recent past; that Steve soon would be powerless to hurt him again.

"Stop it. You do not get to take this on too. Seriously, Steven, Christ." Danny felt his anger ebb away as he looked at the cowering man in the corner. He sat on the end of the bed, dropping his elbows to his knees. He attempted a few calming breaths before he spoke again. "What's going on, Steve? I want . . . I need to know what we're dealing with here." If he had to wait here until kingdom fucking come, he was going to do it. And if he couldn't help his friend, he was going to find someone who could.

I could tell him, I should tell him and he would . . . do what? Steve bit the inside of his cheek as he worried to himself. What would he do? Would he hate me even more? Would he tell Chin and Kono? Would he walk away and never come back? He slid his arms around his legs again, feeling the sharp pull to the stitches on his hip. His body involuntarily jerked a bit at the pain not only radiating from his reddened and abused skin but from the rapid-fire shocks coursing beneath it.

"Steve." Danny slid from the bed to lean against it as he settled wearily in front of Steve. "You asked for help. Earlier, you asked me to help and I want to. I do. I just don't know what I can do until you tell me. Please, babe. You're my partner. My friend. What can I do?" He reached a tentative hand out, halting it just shy of touching the clasped hands around Steve's tucked up legs. Sighing, he dropped it onto the ankle closest to him, noting the soft skin, though warm, was trembling slightly. "Whatever it is, I will help you. We will do it together."

They had sat on the floor until Danny knew that he would never again have feeling in his ass. Trying again to get through to his muted friend, he decided to go for lighter approach. "Steve? Babe, come on. Let's get cleaned up, maybe have a bite, yeah? I don't know about you, but I could definitely eat. Plus, I know we got pizza, I saw it down there on the table, so how 'bout it?" He gave Steve's ankle, now not quaking as much, a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to talk if you don't want. I . . . well, I would just feel better if I saw you eating something." Placing an elbow back on the bed he heaved himself to his feet with minimal grumping at tightened muscles. Reaching down, he curled his hands around Steve's clenched hands and gave an experimental tug, relief starting to build within his heart as his friend allowed him to help pull him haltingly up from the floor.

Following behind Danny, Steve berated himself for being reduced to this loathsome, pitiful man as they descended the stairs. He had no right to monopolize his partners' time, causing him worry and stress. 'You . . ." he began, feeling shame at the pathetic tone his voice took on; clearing his throat he started again. "You should head on home and –" Danny body twitched as he stopped and turned quickly to face him, the blonde's eyes bore into his, causing him to falter in mid-thought, he nearly staggered at the intensity being aimed up at him. "Um . . .after we eat." He finished weakly. Danny just shook his head sadly at him and continued on down past the landing. Steve knew that his friend trusted him to follow, just as he knew that not following wasn't an option.

They stopped briefly at the bottom of the stairs so that Danny could cross over to secure the front door and set the alarm. Steve waited, unsure that Danny wouldn't chase him down if he stepped out of his sight. He thought he had locked up when he got home, but then he had been wrong about so many things this week already; sighing shallowly he realized that Danny had already moved on ahead into the kitchen. He stumbled slowly after him.

"Have a seat. I'm just going to nuke this and then . . ." Danny's neutrally toned voice floated across the tiled space, but as Steve pulled out and sank into one of the teak chairs of the kitchenette set, he witnessed the blonde's hunched shoulders and precise movements. His partner was treating him as he had witnessed him treating a suspect, patient and kindly but no less lethal; he didn't know how he felt about that. He also saw hooded blue eyes tracking him and then averting quickly when he caught them from beneath his own lowered lashes. He dropped his eyes and didn't look up again until he saw Danny's hand sliding a paper plate with two pieces of chicken artichoke pizza onto the table in front of him. The grease was already beginning to stain the plate a translucent burnt orange. "Eat."

Rather than argue and face the shorter mans ire, Steve carefully picked up a piece and took a small bite, the flavors of the smoky cheese and zesty sauce mixed on his tongue with those of the garlicky chicken and the tangy, marinated artichokes. He savored them as he chewed and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

They, he and Danny, had discovered this pizza after many arguments about the proper pie. Of course Steve, being Hawaiian born and bred liked the traditional ham and pineapple, while Danny favored the standards of the east coast in the form of fatty, artery-clogging pepperoni and sausage. They had come by their compromise quite by accident one night at the office, when famished after a day of chasing their own tails and bunk leads; they raided the small kitchen's fridge. All it held was a few random condiments and the rest of Chin's pizza that he had had earlier in the day. They were both pleasantly surprised to find that they liked it. Chin hadn't been surprised nor terribly happy, for that matter, the next day.

"What's that, McGarrett? That grin?"

"Tastes good. I can't remember when . . . I don't think I ate today." Steve glanced up to see a darkness overtake Danny's normally strong features. "I, um, I was thinking of when we stole Chin's. After the Ka'aipalupalu case. He was . . ." He couldn't finish the sentence. He was going to say how pissed off Chin had been, but that was nothing compared to how he had been acting this past week.

"He's not, you know," He heard Danny start around a bite of food, before a telltale swallowing sound. "Sorry. Not mad at you, Steve. I know you must think he is. That he blames you, hates you and all, but he doesn't. Chin . . ." Steve glanced up to see Danny's eyes trained on the beams of the ceiling in thought. "Chin has . . .had certain expectations that he set for himself. For himself. For Kono. Shit, probably for every one of us. These expectations were perhaps a bit, um, a bit over-the-top, more than a touch unrealistic, you see. And this case . . . and with Kono . . . well, let's just say that several of his expectations were shattered all over the place and then . . . trudged through like a week's worth of dog shit at the pound." Steve took another bite of his pizza as Danny gulped from a bottle of water.

"But –" Steve was going to admit it. He was going to tell Danny how this was all his fault. It was. He knew. Chin and Kono knew it. Danny was just being obstinate. But his partner spoke before he had a chance to open his mouth again.

"No. Steve, you can't take blame that isn't yours." Danny's voice had a strength to it that he really used; an unshakeable surety. "The blame in this case," Danny winced slightly at his bad pun and held up a finger. "This blame falls on Akihiko Washui for being a fucking prince of a gangster wannabe and Akihiko's merry little gang of thugs. Akio Washui for being richer than shit and for being blind when it comes to his son, the governor for meddling once again and making everything that much more difficult. Kamekona . . ."

Danny turned his hand briefly, in a stopping motion when Steve's eyes widened. "Kamekona get some blame for giving us shitty intel. Not a lot, but he does get some. Chin. Kono. Me. You. We all get some for not . . . for not having one another's backs and noticing that we all were buckling under. So you see. It's not all yours. Not by a long shot. There are loads of people that I can't even begin to name." Danny dropped his hand that had been ticking off the participants to the table. Steve stared at it, watching the fingers curl slightly towards his upturned palm.

"Ok-okay. I know that this wasn't . . .that it wasn't _all _my fault, but I'm the leader of 5-0. I'm supposed to keep you safe and I didn't do that. Kono is in the hospital and . . ." How was he going to get Danny to understand that he and he alone was responsible for their lives. They were his team. He had had teams under him before, in the SEALs and if someone got injured or they were killed, the burden of blame fell to him. That is how it is, how it _always_ is, the leader takes the blame.

"Steve." Danny had a worried look.

"I. uh, in the SEALs . . .If som-"

"No, Steve, We are not in the SEALs. Nor are we in the 'Stan. We are in Hawaii and while technically, yes, you are our boss. I don't know if you noticed, but we do have the right to back out or to quit or whatever. I know that, Chin knows that and Kono knows that. She's getting out tomorrow, she sounds strong, like she always does. She doesn't blame you at all, Steve. This is not your cross to bear alone. Am I clear?" Steve traced his eyes along the tabletop and up Danny's torso until he met his partners' flashing eyes. "Am. I. Clear?" Danny held Steve's eyes and waited for him to slowly nod. "Good. So what else is going on up here?" Danny stood and collected their plates and napkins. As he passed Steve he lightly thumped him on the head.

"Nothing." Steve answered too quickly and he knew it. So did Danny from the look of incredulous disbelief that overtook his face. "Well, not a lot. Nothing a good night's sleep won't right."

"See. That, there. That's a lie. I know this because I have eyes. Now, I'm not disagreeing that you could do with a good night's sleep, hell, a week's worth would undoubtedly be better still. But if you say that you've been off this past week _and you have been off, _believe you me, based solely upon this case. I'm gonna . . ." Danny pivoted and gripped Steve's left bicep, pulling him to standing. "Well, I'll be very displeased to be sure. Then, well then, I might have to shoot you." Hitting the lights on the way, he herded Steve into the living room.

"You would probably have just caus-" Steve muttered under his breath, but he didn't figure on Danny being right there.

"Upstairs or down here?" Came a flinty voice that seemed to cut him right between his shoulder blades. He knew Danny had heard him anyway; he could tell by the change in his tone.

He swallowed heavily, the slice and a half that had tasted so good was now weighing heavily in his gut, causing him to tense and hunch slightly. If he . . . no, they . . . sat down here and he spilled his soul, would it make it easier for Danny to flee? Would he leave him? Did he want him to? If Steve told him everything, would he hate him more? Could he, Steve, convince Danny that he was worth hating? Because he was. Would he tell the Governor? Wait, I _told_ the Governor, she just doesn't know it yet. Steve's head seemed spin with the dizzying thoughts whirling about within it. He couldn't grasp what he was supposed to. He couldn't make the decision that had been placed before him. What had Danny asked him? The confusion caused his vision to waver.

Danny cocked first one and then both eyebrows at Steve as he seemed to grind to a halt. Looking up, he could actually see the lines on indecision etch themselves deeper into the flats and planes of his partners' face. Ghosting a sigh, Danny steered Steve over to the stairs before he stepped off into the den and smacked the light switch with his hand. Turning back he saw that Steve had yet to place a foot on the first riser. Shaking his head, he placed a hand in the small of Steve's back and started him up; catching the last switch with his elbow, he followed.

"I'm . . ." Steve faltered as he reached the landing. He felt Danny's hand at his back, grounding him, like when his hand had gripped his ankle earlier. He was thankful for it; the feeling of not being so alone. He turned and raised a placating hand towards his partner. "Thanks . . . I really, um I just . . .thanks, Danny, for being here." He didn't wait for a reply; he just turned again and with the aid of the banister started up the remaining steps.

'Ummpf . . .come on, Steve. You didn't have to stop right at the top, you lummox, you can ke -."

Steve had stopped at the top of the stairs; his eyes widened as he caught sight of the bathroom counter covered with the empty cylinders. Now he understood. Why Danny had looked freaked when Steve first saw him tonight.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Danny followed Steve's gaze into the bathroom, the soothing light periwinkle walls seemed betrayed by the empty brown bottles. "You said that you flushed them. I know you don't like to take anything, but if you're injured. . ." Danny entered the room and picked up a first one bottle then another and another inspecting their labels before tossing them in the sink basin. "Vicodin, Amoxicillin, Percocet, Effexor, Tylenol 3, Oxycodone, Effexor, Amoxicillin, Effexor, again . . . What the fuck, Steve? Were you actually thinking about . . . _it_?" Danny found that he couldn't name the one act he never saw Steve committing to. Steve was just too strong, too tough, and too able-bodied to ever do something so . . . "Steve?" He said, looking at the crown of the dark hair on the down-turned head that the man in question presented from his stance in the doorway. The unasked query hung between the two men for several moments. "Babe?"

"I was . . . um, worried? Worried, yeah, after Kono . . . I didn't, or wasn't rather, dealing with her injury well. I was worried, ah, scared, I guess." Steve felt his voice growing stronger as he fought through his panic to explain. He knew that Danny wasn't going to be satisfied until he got to the marrow, like a dog worrying a bone. He felt his chest tightening in fear and his gut clenching along with it. "I . . . I, uh, I opened them up and flushed them all."

"When? Tonight? Last Saturday? When, Steve, when did this happen? Because Kono told me you were injured and I'm sure that the antibiotics might have been helpful at one point." Danny said picking up one of the bottles and waving at him. He was perplexed and more than a little disheartened, that Steve hadn't come to him at all. For anything.

"On Mon – no. On Tuesday, when she was more awake. She . . . she was going to be okay. So I . . . I figured that I should, you know . . ." Steve found that he didn't know how to finish his thought, that he couldn't admit to anyone just how weak he was; to Danny, of all people, that he was weak and had truly thought about just escaping it all. When Danny asked him in a quiet voice if it was the same with guns on his dad's desk in the den, all he could do was nod silently.

"Yeah, she told me about the hip, said that you were hurting and more than just physically, too." Danny stepped silently towards his partner, stretching out a hand, palm up to show that he had nothing to hide, no agenda. "Can I?" he asked tugging the bottom of Steve's dingy tee shirt.

Steve leaned stiffly against the door jamb, watching Danny's hand worrying the bottom of his shirt. He watched the muscles in his wrist working as they stole under the bandage on his arm. He wanted to make it better; to release Danny from the pain he caused. And like the undercover op that Kono had been savaged in, the raid today was also his idea. He couldn't stop hurting those around him, even if he hadn't held the object that had sliced Danny open or the gun that fired the bullet that burned his neck, he might as well of been. Steve felt his breath catch as he watched Danny's hand clenching the tattered hem of his shirt.

He wanted so bad to let Danny in, it was one thing to admit it to the man that he was a fuck up, but it was quite another to let him see all his flaws and faults. He knew that he had feelings for him and truth be told he always had, since their first day together, but he couldn't risk Danny finding out now. He was being so gentle and kind. Steve knew, deep down, that if the Danny standing before him right now was to get to the truth, the darkest secret that Steve had carried for years, he would run and Steve really would fall apart. There would be no salvation for his sins, no redemption.

"Steve? Will you let me see your hip? Please? I want to make sure that it's not infected or anything, I won't touch it, I promise." Steve had heard Danny's tone before. It was the tone he saved for frightened children, like Gracie, or Kevin or the little boy in the elevator that one time. Steve wanted to say no, he thought he had said it, but he raised his arms anyway when Danny had gotten his tee shirt raised midway to his chest.

"Jesus." Danny whispered, voice hoarsened by what he saw before him. He took in the multitude of bruises that crisscrossed his partner's chest. They ranged from black and deep purple for the ones received today to the faded greenish browns and yellow for the older ones. A particularly nasty one crept over Steve's right shoulder as its companion bruise stole the expanse of skin around his ribs, under his arm. Danny was helpless to stop himself from touching, from whispering his fingers over the one on his ribs. He saw, heard, felt Steve's intake of breath. He slowly withdrew his hand again, dropping it to his side. He glanced up to find Steve's hazel eyes, dark and haunting in the shadowy light.

"It's nothing. It will fade, they always do." Was all Steve said, taking a half step back into the hall. Danny's touch had caused a tremor to start at his core, surging forth hotly, slowly increasing until hit reached his extremities. It felt like the heat from the lava beds on the Big Island had seeped into his body somehow. He had to back away from the look of anguish that had had filled his friends eyes, protecting him from being burned by his own embarrassment.

Danny glanced down at the angry gash that bisected Steve's tightly cut left hip. It had been stitched somewhat unevenly and was showing the obvious signs of infection; the black stitches, showing up deeply against the mottled red and purple puckering skin. "It's infected." Danny stated quietly, finger flexing by his side, fighting his conscience for a chance to touch. "You should get it washed up and put something on it."

"I know." Steve stated simply, nodding in agreement, all the while not moving forward or back.

Danny's eyes followed the line of the wound down to the waistband of Steve's cargos, where it disappeared. To prevent himself from spooking his partner anymore and from jumping him in the hall, Danny stepped backwards into the recesses of the bathroom. "The stitches are good, but I'm guess from their slight lack of spacing, you did it, yeah?" He waited for Steve to nod in confirmation. "Better than I could've done." He reached in and turned on the shower. He then reached into the cupboard next to the sink and pulled out a towel. "Need anything else? No? Okay, I'll be out, ah . . ." He pointed behind Steve and then edged past him, turning slightly to nudge his battered partner into the room. He saw more marks marring the otherwise smooth skin of his back, but bit his tongue. He pulled the door mostly shut behind him and backed slowly towards the master bedroom.

He wanted Steve. It was as simple as that. He had confirmed what had been an idea that had been dancing through his head for months, only today. When he was taking his shower at the station, he allowed his mind go over today and then the past week. He knew that what was wrong was that that Steve wasn't there, that they hadn't spent minutes in the car bickering. He couldn't remember the last time they had met for beers or watched some unimportant game on television. Steve wasn't there to commiserate over whatever hell Rachel was currently putting him through. He wasn't there to share the latest discovery that Gracie had learned about their new home. Steve just plainly wasn't there.

Danny turned and walked slowly into Steve's room and was faced with his dress blues lying across the foot of the bed again. Picking them up, he laid them gently across the back of the easy chair in the corner. He wanted Steve, but he wanted to help him as well, and whatever that was in the doorway earlier, yeah, _that_ didn't help. He vowed to himself that he would shelve any and all romantic ideas until he was sure that Steve was okay . . . and receptive to them. It wouldn't be right otherwise. Feeling somewhat deflated after the events of the day, Danny sat where the uniform had lain and stared at the closed bathroom door, waiting to see which Steve would emerge. The Steve that was his friend only slightly broken or the shattered Steve he met for the first time tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Dreams in Which I'm Dying . . .**

Disclaimer : The persons and characters within this fic belong to CBS and their holding companies. I have done this story for no profit and do not hope to gain any. The story title is from "Mad World as sung by Gary Jules. The chapter title is from "Last Goodbye" by the amazing Jeff Buckley.

A/N: There is only one chapter left after this. Thanks to all of you that have stuck by this story and encouraged me with your reviews.

A/N2:So to be honest, I have never gone to medical school nor have I ever had the desire. The effects of the the medication mentioned within the story were taken from research online and while they may be actual side-effects for some people; they are not always present in all people who take it or quit it cold-turkey. I am not saying that taking the medication is bad nor do I recommend going against any doctors orders in the case of any personal prescriptions. I have made that choice before and suffered the consequences. Please remember that this a work of fiction. It is also unbeta'd so any and all spelling and grammar issues are my fault. The same could be said for any plot holes.

**Chapter 7: Must I Dream and Always See Your Face**

Danny sat in the bedroom for a few minutes, trying to get his mind to slow to a crawl, but to no avail. He just couldn't wrap his mind around how Steve was acting. He was different in nearly every way. Where he once stood tall and challenging, he now appeared haggard and broken. Up until lately, he had always been purposefully driven in whatever situation they were in as far as Danny could tell. Calculating and decisive. Now? Danny sighed as he remembered having to lead his partner to the stairs and practically forcing him up them. He had never seen Steve at odds with his own actions before. It was disturbing. Maybe you don't know him as well as you think, Danny's brain supplied snarkishly. He reached up and rubbed lightly at the bullet graze, great, he pouted, even his mind was mocking him.

Danny mind flicked to the memory of Grace's broken shell, the one that Steve reminded him of on the docks. She had left it at Steve's when he had taken her home that night and when Danny found it a few days later when he was waiting for Steve in the morning, he had pitched it back into the ocean. He winced at the realization that if his mind had substituted Steve for the shell, was it up to him to throw Steve away in hopes that he would find someone else to make him whole; to take up residence in his broken soul. Shit. Danny rubbed a hand over his brow and down his jaw; he was some sort of sick fuck for even thinking like that. He needed to quit thinking about that fucking broken shell. Steve was nothing like that, he was exhausted and he just needed sleep. And what I need is a beer.

Standing, Danny started for the door before remembering that Steve didn't have any clean clothes to change into after his shower, he detoured to the dresser and opened a few drawers before finding what he was looking for. Snagging a pair of plaid sleep pants, some boxers, and a faded and worn 'Navy' tank. He crossed the hall to the bathroom and knocking lightly stepped in. "Hey, brought you some clean things to wear. 'Kay?" He tried to keep his voice upbeat and aloof. He heard Steve grunt a reply.

Danny made sure to keep his eyes averted, making sure not to look in the curtain, but his eyes strayed to the mirror instead. Fogged. Figures, it served him right for being a peeping tom. Danny shook his head in disgust at himself. He picked up the filthy clothes from the floor and started to leave when his eyes caught sight of the pill bottles in the sink basin again. There had been a name he wasn't familiar with, what was it again? He mused as he tried to pick it out of the pile without disturbing the lot of them. Effexor, that's it. He snagged the bottle and slipped it into the pocket with the bottles from the office. Pulling the door to just short of latching he started down the stairs.

He watched the door shutting slowly behind Danny. He was alone again, just standing there listening to the echoing of the water pelting the tiles in the shower mixing with the more solid sound of the rain beating on the roof above him. It was comforting to know that he had protection from the storm roaring loudly outside. It allowed him to concentrate more on the one raging internally.

Thumbing the button of his cargos, he noticed how they slipped easily from hips. I need to eat, he thought absently. Wait, I just did, didn't I? He scowled at his confusion. It was getting harder to keep all the facts straight in his mind. Lowering his boxer briefs, he stepped out and kicked them and the cargos aside to settle next to his discarded tee in front of the vanity. He stepped slowly into the shower and turned the tap to allow more hot water into the flow.

When was the last time I had a shower? Steve wondered to himself. He usually had one in the morning after his swim and after a run or a workout. But he knew he hadn't swum since sometime last week at least and it had been even longer since he ran or did something from his program. The water was nearly too hot as it pummeled his maltreated shoulders. It felt as though the needle-like pressure was slicing through his skin, flaying him open and baring the muscles and tendons beneath. He didn't adjust the temperature though, he needed it to be scalding; allowing it to sluice away the foulness of the case. Bracing his hands against the wall he lowered his head against his knuckles, causing the water to flow over his head and down his back.

He could almost visualize the water washing the dirt and grime down his body like a river out of control. Dried blood and thoughts were being swept along as if they were debris in the rising heads of whitewater, not unlike the ones that crowned one of the flashfloods he had witnessed while on a mission in Eastern Africa. The storm clouds had built slowly, he remembered, hiding behind the whirling dust and sand clouds, catching both animals and men on the narrow precipices they had climbed to hastily; above the narrow gullies they had been using as highways. The water had started as a trickle before showing its true and violent nature, surging rapidly, crushing those poor souls too weak to escape it.

He remembered the tears that tracked silently down his cheeks later that night while on guard. There had been a few animals that had barely survived the torrent and its mighty waters down in the gullies. They were broken and savaged, to say the least, but for fear of giving away their position, his superior forbade he and his team from putting the pathetic creatures down. Tactical? Yes. A necessary evil of being a soldier? Yes. But try as he might, Steve couldn't help but place himself in the position of the mortally wounded animals that night or the many nights after, the anguished shrieks of the helpless, dying creatures had rent the air for hours after the water receded.

He had carried those cries within the pith of his being for the rest of the mission. Even these days with 5-0, when he heard victims crying out, he felt his heart bleeding for those animals, so much so that he often wishes he could exchange places with those being forced to experience pain they had never asked for. Like Kono. It _should_ have been me; he allowed the thought to rest on the edge of his mind.

Steve could feel the sultriness in the bathroom air seeping into his lungs, stifling his breath. He blinked repeatedly, to try and appease the panic flooding his body, tensing his abused muscles and sapping his strength. How close he had come this week to following through with this frightening compassionate desire left over from the African sortie. Curling his fists, Steve turned his head, resting his cheek against the tile, he felt it slip on the slickened porcelain, sending his balance a bit off-kilter. He stepped closer to the wall and splayed his fingers wide, to cling to the gout grooves in hopes of regaining some of his poise.

He has always prided himself on his strength, his resilience, but this desolation; this desperation had him at a lost. But, he thought wildly, he had Danny here now. That would help. Wouldn't it? Danny had found him and Danny had seen the pill bottles. He knows. He had seen the guns in the den and had figured out why they were ripped apart. He knows. Well he doesn't know that those guns, even if they were put back together, still wouldn't work. Steve felt his cheek twitch. I may be weak, but I'm smart enough to do at least one thing right. Steve thought wanly, even Danny would have to agree. But Danny knows and _now what_?

Danny. Why had Danny come over anyway? Steve felt his mind catching on that very question. _Why_? He remembered thinking earlier that Danny was going to yell at him, was going to rip into him for the fucked up raid today. But Danny hadn't done that. He had hugged him and fed him. Why did that seem so wrong? Steve tripped over his memories of what had occurred since Danny got there. Sure, he had yelled, but only because he thought that I had overdosed, His mind reminded him of the recent past. Then he hugged me. Steve could still feel Danny's small hands clinging at his arms and his shoulders. He could still feel his scalp tingling from the gentle caress as one of them had stole into his hair as Danny clutched his head to his broad chest. But then he slammed him against the wall and yell at him again.

The air changed around his body as the door to the bathroom was pushed open, letting the buildup of steam dissipate in the cooler air from the hall. He heard Danny mention something about clean clothes or something. Steve grunted his acknowledgement as he was really didn't know what to say, especially since he really hadn't heard what was said. He couldn't remember the last time someone had cared enough to take care of him. Bullshit. He bowed his head in shame at the lie. He knew exactly when the last time was that someone had taken care of him. He also remembered how he had repaid that person. With betrayal and dishonor. He would never forget the moment it had ended or the consequences that he has lived with every day since.

Pulling himself away from wall and back under the spray, Steve felt the water biting at his bruised right shoulder as it stretched when he reached for the soap. Lathering his hands he reached up and gently cleaned the abused flesh as well as his arm. Glancing down he watched the soapy residue, lusterless with the grime it carried, washing down his blackened ribs. He repeated the process on the other side, wincing as the soap crested over the reddened and raw skin of his partially healed hip.

He ran a finger softly across his rib, trailing it along the same path that Danny had burned into his skin. Fuck, how he had wanted to step into that touch. He craved it. He had wanted to feel Danny's hands on his skin for months now, since that time after Meka, but now . . . now he knew he had been right to back away. It _had _been Steve, himself, who had limited the closeness, he knew it now. At the time he had thought that maybe Danny, well, maybe he had been interested. But he couldn't let Danny get any closer. He wasn't right for Danny. Danny deserved much better than what he could offer, which was only destruction and heartbreak. Danny deserved love.

Besides, he grimaced; Danny had verified earlier that he was a menace. That he only thought of results, no matter the cost. There was no way he would believe that he wasn't like that at all. Steve knew that he tried; he had always tried to do right. To do what he was supposed to. But someone always got hurt. Steve felt the lump forming high in his throat. He wanted to go back to the beginning, he wanted to not fuck up and make people die. Clenching his eyes closed he prayed to find blackness behind his lids, but the parade of those wronged by him continued to swarm around him.

Steve stood still under spray for a long time, letting the water run cool. The chill felt good after the harshness of the heat from before. It's like scuba diving, he thought randomly, spending your time on a boat in the blazing sun wrapped in black and then plummeting into the shadowy depths, beyond the surface warmed by the sun until you sank lower than light can sometimes reach. Granted if you were doing it right, you would rise up to an acceptable viewing depth, he acknowledged to himself. But Steve knew that sometimes he liked to skim the bottom, seeing how far he could push himself down; much to the consternation of his diving companions.

The water surrounding him turned colder still. He knew he should get out before Danny got worried about him and came to check on him, but he just stood there; the rivulets of icy water chasing the heat from his flushed skin, raising tiny bumps among his pores. Steve stared down with a morbid fascination, watching the mottled skin above his impaired muscles prickle and jump beneath the hair on his chest. He touched a shaking wrinkled finger to his sternum, rubbing at the pain that throbbed beneath. He felt weak in his attempt to stop it from spreading, from taking over his entire body. Why couldn't he control it now? He felt the tears starting to well in his eyes, blinding him.

Struggling to find his equilibrium, he reached down blindly and gripped the tub faucet before easing down, trembling, to settle on the porcelain side of the tub. He could vaguely hear the shower water dripping from the curtain onto the floor, a mere distinction that was threatened to be drown out by the scratching of the Koa tree branches on the frosted bathroom window. The tree was whipping violently to and fro in the wind as the storm continued to build outside. Steve clutched at the opaque vinyl curtain in vain as he slipped into the tub, tearing it from the plastic rings and bending the rod in the process. The sensation of utter helplessness he felt was in danger of being overrun by the truth. He was a menace, a reckless, hopeless menace. People died because he was selfish, greedy.

Sobbing now, he curled in upon himself, willing himself to die, if only to stop himself from thinking.

Danny was standing in the kitchen staring out the window into the blackness. The lightening was providing occasional flashes of the rain sheeting down beyond the safety of the lanai. He had grabbed a juice box, from the fridge after he gave up on his quest for beer. Steve kept it on hand for when Danny brought Grace over. It was only a week past its expiration date, so it should still be good, Danny thought. Sure, he had a couple of six-packs in the Camaro, along with a nice bottle of whisky, but there was no way he was going after it right now. The closest he had come was by making sure the doors were locked, pointing the keychain clicker out the front window.

"Hey, it's me. So did you get everything you needed at the docks?" Danny felt guilty at the tiredness that evident in Chin's muffled 'Hey'. "So, I'm just calling to . . . well, I guess confirm with you that we, as in all of us, are taking the next couple of days off." He picked absently through the mess of things on the table that he had pulled from Steve's pockets before tossing the cargos and everything else into the laundry room. He picked up Steve's cell and held the button to power it down.

"O . . . kay. Uh, what about the case file, don't we need to get on that?" Chin's voice held a definite tone of bewilderment to it. "And what about . . . ah, Steve? What does he say? Is he okay with this?" Danny could hear Chin chewing on something wherever he was.

"Yeah, Steve's . . ." Danny couldn't decide if he should tell Chin about the state of the house or even the worse, the state Steve was in. They had been at odds most of the week. Chin wouldn't use his boss's emotional distress against him. Would he? Danny was still waffling in his head when Chin broke through his doubt.

"Steve . . .Steve needs more than a couple of days off, if you ask me. Kono filled me in on what he's been like when he's been in to see her, well that is when she wasn't tearing me a new one." His voice only has a trace of betrayal, Danny thought, nothing like he was earlier. "Besides, I kinda wanted to spend some of tomorrow with her, if I can get around Aunty that is."

"That's a good idea. As for the paperwork . . .well, I think that Tuesday is as good a day to turn it in as any, right? Maybe even Wednesday." Danny didn't wait for his teammates answer before continuing on. "Will you call the governor's office and tell them that we are standing down? I would but I kinda got my hands full with –" He cut himself off with a scrunch of his face.

"Oh yeah, how you feelin', brah? Arm not hurting too much, I hope." Danny thought that Chin must have known what he was going to say, but had opted to let Danny retain the information to himself for the time being.

"No. I'm good, really. Bit singed and sore as hell, but I'll live." Danny dug in his pocket and added his own contributions to the growing 'What the Fuck?' pile on the table "Anyway, the Governor. Will you tell her to call either me or you . . .you okay with that? If she needs anything important, that is." He picked up the empty bottle that he palmed upstairs and stared at the label.

"Sure, brah. I'm at the office right now, so I'll do it as soon as I get off. She probably won't be happy, but I often wonder when she is." Chin took a gulp of something and swallowed noisily before he continued "Sorry. Hey, did you happen to go into Steve's office today when you were here? I went in for the folder for the Washui case, which I found on _your_ desk, by the way and it's . . . well, it was chaotic. Steve's, I mean."

"Yeah, I saw it." He answered flatly. "You able to look something up for me, Chin?" Danny knew that by asking what he was going to ask, he was inviting Chin to draw some pretty bizarre and probably pretty truthful assumptions. He also knew that deep down he wanted someone other than himself to be prepared to deal with whatever was ripping Steve apart.

"Sure, shoot."

"Could you look up a pill? Effexor. E-f-f-e-x-o-r. I wanna know what it's for, what it does, and what stopping it does? Can you do that?" Sucking in a slow breath between flattened lips, Danny dropped the pill bottle back to the pile and started poking through it again. Other than what he had added, everything else seemed pretty normal.

"Sure, just give me a . . ." Danny could hear the feint clicks of Chin's fingers flying over a keyboard. Beside his phone there was a roll of mints, Steve's truck keys, his wallet, a locket with no chain, a few scraps of paper with Steve's tiny scratchy writing on them, and some loose change. He picked up the locket to examine it more closely. It seemed fairly old and there was an inscription rubbed nearly flush with the finish, 'Mom'. Ah, Danny thought, well that seems ab-

"Effexor. It's an antidepressant, used most commonly as a mood elevator. If someone was to stop taking it . . .jeez, it's a laundry list of both physical and emotional issues."

"Just the highlights if you can, babe." Danny dropped the locket and ran his finger across what he thought of as 'his envelope' now.

"Anxiety, depression, insomnia, nightmares, suicidal thoughts, dizziness, tremors, mood swings . . . Danny. I could spend the next several minutes just on the highlights alone. Is this-" Danny could sense the hesitation in Chin unfinished question.

"I don't know Chin, I'm just now figuring some stuff out. Look, I'm pretty sure I got this, all right? Danny paused to let the Hawaiian respond. When he didn't, he asked again. "All right, Chin? Trust me. I'll call if I need to. I promise. Just . . .please. Stay close."

"Whatever you need, Danny." Chin's tone had dropped, filled with troubled compassion. "Same for Steve, man. Call if you need me, I'll be there."

"Will do." Danny was suddenly thankful that he hadn't had that beer. "And Chin? This is between us, okay?"

"Sure thing, brah. Stay in touch." Danny listened to the line go dead, before he sat heavily and stared at the collection of the table. He picked up the envelope with his name on it. He thought back to his anger in the office at being excluded and at his confusion of finding this envelope in the den covered in gun parts. He had always hated surprises as a kid and some things never change. Would he be betraying Steve if he opened it? It was half-assed addressed to him after all. But then again, Steve hadn't handed it to him either.

Laying it back on the table, Danny finished his juice box and tossed it in the trash. It wasn't his to read, not yet at least. He grabbed a couple bottles of water from the fridge and started for the stairs. He could hear the thunder constantly rolling across the sky outside. Danny nudged a small box on the first step, out of the way with his toe; taking a deep breath he headed up to see what Steve was up to.

"Steve?" Steve heard Danny's voice, calling softly to him from the hall, "You okay in there? Haven't drown have you?" He wanted to answer, but the persistent lump in his throat, threatened to choke him when he opened his mouth. He watched the door swing open silently.

"Babe?" Danny sensed that any optimism he had felt growing from their first encounter tonight dwindled away to nothingness as he took in the torn shower curtain on the bent rod. His eyes followed the half-hung piece of vinyl down to the ball of agonizing humanity huddled in the tub. "Jesus, Steve. Are you okay? Did you fall? Talk to me, babe. Did you hit your head?" Danny rushed the few steps to the tub and dropped to his knees on the bathmat. "Fuck, Steven, what am I-" he snapped his mouth shut, teeth clicking loudly together. He was thinking of the discussion he just had with Chin. His mind started listing the symptoms of the withdrawal Steve was probably going through. His yelling at Steve wasn't going to help. Not at all.

"F . . .fell. I fell . . . dizz-" Steve couldn't finish his sentence as his teeth were chattering so much that he could practically feel the lockjaw settling in.

"Okay, okay, you fell. You should have hollered. I was just downstairs, I would have come." Danny had reached out and slapped the water off, wincing at the frigidness of it. He grabbed the towel from the counter and wrapped it around as much of his partners' body as possible. One of Steve's hand snaked from beneath the towel to cling at Danny's injured wrist. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Yeah? I've got you. Did you hurt anything beside your pride?" Danny could hear his voice pitching a bit higher in his panic. "Hmm? Steve, did you hurt your hip again? Your shoulder? Back?"

"N . . .no, just fell." He felt Danny patting him as dry as he could, while still granting him the privacy of hiding behind the bath towel. "Okay. Just . . . cold."

"Right, then. Let's see about getting you out of here, okay? Get you into some dry clothes." Danny felt his bad knee twinge as he stood and reached into the cupboard for a second towel. "Got the floor a bit damp, didn't you. That's okay, cleaned it up with my knees, didn't I? Good thing to, these pants are due for a cleaning." He kept up the steady patter, more for himself than Steve. If he kept talking he could keep the part of his brain that wanted his partner, turned to 'off'. "Come on then, up we go." He clasped one of Steve's near frozen hands with his good arm and hoisted the best he could.

"Dan . . .ny. Sorry." Steve considered how awkward this must be for his partner; to have to drag his boss naked from a tub. "I'm . . .-"

Danny for his part just shushed him and secured the wetter towel from the tub, around his waist and used the other to rub lightly over all other areas of Steve's body, finishing with a ruffling flourish through his hair. "Alright, that's us dry. Clothes and then bed, I think." He grabbed the tank top from the vanity top and held it open for Steve to thread his trembling arms through. Lifting it over his head, Danny snugged it down to his waist. "You feeling better now?" He hadn't expected an answer so he wasn't terribly surprised when one wasn't forthcoming.

He palmed both of Steve's hips and pivoted him slightly until he leaned back against the sink. "Boxers and/or pants?" Danny felt foolish asking, but it was his sincerest desire that Steve be comfortable. He picked up both, one in each hand and held them out for Steve to decide.

Steve was powerless to stop the repeated twitching in the depths of his soul from manifesting into a vibration that circulated throughout his body. Around and around it coursed through his veins, reaching each nerve ending and causing him to start minutely shivering again. He knew what was causing it and that scared him; turning the shivering into a full body quaking. The last time he was this close to a male that he desired, he had been a boy. A stupid, horny boy.

"Babe?" Danny watched his friend shutting down for what seemed like the hundredth time tonight. "Come on, Steve. Don't leave me again. Come back." Danny couldn't keep the shock from his face as Steve's head whipped up and his dark hazel eyes pierced his own. They were startlingly clear.

"Not leaving." If Danny heard the soft pant behind his exclamation, he didn't say anything, which Steve was thankful for. "Not again."

After that Danny found Steve much more manageable. He had tugged the sleep pants gently from Danny's hand, which hung limply at his side and with a little help from the blonde man, managed to pull them on himself under the towel. Danny loaded his toothbrush with paste for him and with a soft brush to his shoulder excused himself to fetch the pills from the pile of refuse on the kitchen table. He shut off the rest of the lights in the upstairs rooms', save the master bedroom, before turning towards the bathroom again.

Steve was just rinsing and spitting when Danny re-entered. "I know you don't want to take anything. I get that, _I do_." He sensed the dark look leveled at him rather than seeing it as he examined the two bottles. "Don't look at me like that, babe? I just want that hip to heal. I was just going to suggest that you take the antibiotic. That's all. Would that be okay? Steve?" He looked up then and found himself lost in twin pools of deep green honesty. Steve's eye looked like two tide pools filled with algae covered rocks with a reflection of the twilight sky speckled throughout for good measure. He sucked a shallow breath through his teeth.

"Whatever you thinks' best, Danny." Steve's voice had become malleable and Danny found that it had molded itself around his heart, making it beat faster. I'm fucked, is all the he could think.

Steve reached out his hand and waited for Danny to open the right bottle. He eyed the white and green capsule, dwarfed in his broad palm, for a moment, as if challenging it to do its job, then popped it into his mouth. Cupping a handful of water from the faucet he swallowed it carefully. "I'm . . .tired. I'm so fucking tired, D." He studied Danny's reflection in the mirror. Their eyes met and held, as thousand unsaid words passed between them in that moment, but now was not the time to utter a single one.

"Come on then. Let's get you to bed." Danny knew he wouldn't get all the answers tonight, he didn't even know if he would get one, but he wrapped his fingers around Steve's bicep and led him to the bedroom and tucked him in.

"Don't leave." Steve would have cringed at the pleading tone of his voice, but he couldn't feel shame anymore. He didn't want to give up. For the first time in days, he thought wildly, I'm going to fight for what I want.

"I wasn't planning on it. Just getting you comfortable and then I'll go-"

"No." Steve's hand caught Danny around the wrist again. Not tight enough to hurt, but definitely stronger than Danny expected.

"I'm not leaving Steve, I was just going to sleep in the other ro-" Again he was cut off by a quieter, but no less imploring voice saying 'no'. "I can stay here until you fall asleep. Would that make you feel better?"

"Sleep in here, Danny. Please? I . . . I . . .alone, no." He watched Steve shake his head as if clearing away a hard knock in the ring. "I . . . I don't want, um, to be . . . alone. Please, Danny?" Danny knew that he would be a fool to miss the opportunity that was suddenly before him at that very moment, but he also knew how he felt about his friend and he wanted to spare him any discomfort. Steve's hand started twisting lightly around his wrist, over and over again.

"Okay." He said simply, stripping down to his boxers, he turned off the lights and crawled in to the bed next to Steve, who had rolled to his side and buried his nose against Danny's shoulder. He knew now that he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. Just like he wasn't going to get any answers.

It was late Monday afternoon, before Danny found the trigger to Steve's troubled mind, quite by accident really. In the full day and a half since he found his friend wrapped around himself in his boyhood room, Steve had barely let him out of his sight. They spoke of inconsequential things, such as surfing, the Mets, their shared hatred of Spam. He ate when Danny told him to. He allowed Danny to check his stitches without questions or petulance. He took his antibiotics when they were handed to him.

Danny slept in his bed at night. Both nights they always started out on their own respective sides of the bed, but in the morning Danny would wake with his wrist wrapped up in Steve's long fingers. Danny was actually becoming concerned at the lack of fight he found in Steve.

Some questions he sussed out answers to for himself, like the lights all being on and the door open. That was easy, Steve had forgotten to shut the door after the pizza guy had been there and the lights chased away imagined shadows, not unlike Gracie when she dreamed of monsters in the closet. The pills? The knife in the wall? The broken down guns? Another set of simple answers, they were Steve's way of safeguarding himself from making a foolish mistake.

Danny even figured out why the Mercury's door was hanging open. He had went to the garage when Steve was resting on the sofa and found the door to be only partially assembled, it's casing propping the door open as Steve must have been working on the locking mechanism.

Some answers he assumed and didn't even bother asking for confirmation from his partner. The state of his desk at headquarters, the note on the model, the envelopes; they were all signals of a troubled mind that was screaming out for attention. Danny had placed his envelope back on the desk in the den on that first morning after he pried his arm away from the man clinging to it like a lifeline. Danny felt overwhelmed at the sensation being revered as a savior of sorts. Nobody in his life had ever hinted at, much less acted as though he was the only thing keeping them alive.

So it wasn't until he wandered out onto the lanai, carrying the small package from the bottom of th stairs, that the truth came out.

He brought it out at the same time he brought their iced teas, joking like he had when he brought in the UPS package from Iowa that one time. "Got you something." He said placing it in front of Steve on the wrought iron table. He half-expected an eye-roll at the very least or maybe even a 'wasn't funny the first time', but all he got were eyes pooling with tears.

"Shit, Steve. I'm sorry. What the . . .Come on, babe, I was kidding." He placed his hand gently on Steve's left shoulder trying to convey through touch that he knew that he really was the biggest schmuck around and he didn't mean anything by it. "Steve, I . . ." He let his unspoken apology dangle, knowing full well that there was nothing he could do to instantly fix this fuck-up. Reaching out with his toe, he pulled his chair close and sat down to wait for Steve to give him a sign on how he could help.

Danny spent the next twenty minutes watching the ice melt in their teas, glancing occasionally at the mute man next to him. Finally he had enough, "I'm going to put this back wher-" He was cut off by movement next to him.

Danny had been reaching for the box, when Steve's hand clamped tightly at first, then more softly at his forearm. He caressed his fingers carefully down the furry forearm until he could link his fingers with Danny's. Holding their joined hands carefully on his thigh, he let out a heavy sigh.

"I was . . ." his voice broke then causing him to clear his throat. "Um, I was fifteen. And I thought I knew everything. You know how that is, wiser than everybody else. Nobody could tell you how to act. How to behave. How to be." He paused to take a sip of tea. "I was a jock, you know that, and I'm sure you remember how full of themselves high school jocks are. I also had just gotten my learners' permit. One of the first in my class, you know." He looked at Danny from beneath lowered lashes, still glistening with unshed tears.

Danny, for his part, just sat silently and listened to his friend spin out a tale of an enchanted youth. He stared at the box on the table and allowed Steve's words to spin around him, The various tones weaving a captivating cadance of highs and lows. The inflections had risen with the high times, such as surfing the Pipeline for the first time, kissing Kanani Lukai under the lifeguard stand, and camping on the beach with his friends. They also sank as he told of visiting the Arizona and _really_ understanding for the first time, his grandfathers' sacrifice. Of his grandmother's death. Danny was mesmerized at this opportunity to _actually_ learn so much about his friend.

"And then I turned sixteen and I had the world by its tail. I had made first string in football a week after I got my driver's license. I was begging my parents for the car. Daily. If we needed anything. Stamps? I was off. Milk? Send me, please? It was a Saturday afternoon and my friend Paul was over, we were screwing around out here on the lanai, just joking around. Horseplay, really. I heard Mary squealing in the kitchen for something, I don't remember what." Danny felt himself tense at the flatness that Steve's voice had took on. "I grabbed Paul's arm and hauled him over there, under the 'Ōhi'a lehua's." Danny's gaze followed Steve's free hand as it pointed to the small grove of trees separating the McGarrett house from the neighbors.

"I didn't want to have to deal with Mary. She was around ten then. I think. So Paul and I hid among the undergrowth and watched her searching around for us. She had wanted some kind of glue or something, for her school project she was working on. We thought it was a scream, you know, messing with her, hiding from her. I heard her calling out my mother that she couldn't find us. I heard mom's voice. I couldn't hear what she said, but she must have said the right thing, 'cause Mary ran back into the house. We were rolling with laughter by then. Honestly rolling in the dirt like a couple of hyenas." Steve paused in his narrative to stare at the trees. Danny looked up at him and noticed that the tears that had threatened to fall earlier were openly coursing down Steve's cheeks.

"I don't know who started it. I really don't. I've thought about this moment almost every day of my life and I can't for the life of me remember who started it. But as we were there, under the trees, rolling around like idiots, we . . .we somehow crashed . . .crashed into one another and . . ." Steve stopped to drag in a shuddering breath. "We somehow started . . .kissing. . .kissing, we started kissing and . . . then, uh touch . . .sorry, touching each other. We, um, didn't do much more. Just kissing and touching each . . .touching each other like we thought that our lives would end . . . would end if we stopped."

Danny looked down at their hands in Steve's lap and took in the ten white knuckles. He can't believe that Steve had been carrying this around with him for what? Eighteen years? He brought his other hand over to cover their joined ones, hoping that Steve would be able to draw some sort of strength from it or something like that.

"I had never thought, uh, thought that I was, you know . . . into guys. I guess it never came up or something. But . . . I liked it. So help me, I liked it. A lot. While we were down there, my dad came home." Danny felt his own breath catch as he feared for teenage Steve getting busted by his father. "He and Mary came out and heard him hollering for me. I swear. I never moved that fast in my life. I pushed Paul away, deep into the trees and told him to stay. I told him to stay, like he was a dog or something." Steve's voice took on a hard edge. "I crawled out and was met by Mary's pout and dad's . . .well, dad always looked a little pissed. I lied to him. I said that I was looking for my football. I'm pretty sure, he knew. Not about Paul, but that I was full of shit. He just told me to set the table and when mom got home, we would eat."

Danny had known, on some level, that Steve had some serious skeletons in his closet. That he couldn't or wouldn't come to terms with his mom's death. He didn't need Steve to go on. He knew what day it was in sixteen-year-old Steve's life. It was the worst day of his life. Period. He looked back at Steve. Tears were still flowing freely down his cheeks, dripping onto his tee shirt. "Babe." Danny whispered, running his free hand up and down Steve's arm. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." What else could he say? There wasn't anything that could heal the pain he saw etched across Steve's face.

"The box." Steve's voice was barely audible now. "I know you're curious. You're a detective. It's what you do."

"No, Steve, you don't ha-"

"The box is . . . it's a, uh, birthday gift." The pain was practically dripping from Steve's lips, Danny thought. "For my . . . my mom." Danny knew he was helpless in his attempt to keep his eyebrows from climbing into his hair. "Every year. Every year, I sent a birthday gift. Then . . . then it started being a birthday gift and Mothers' day. I don't know why, God help me, I wish I knew. I never asked dad. What would I say? I didn't want to know. Then I threw in Christmas. A trifecta of days that I would always wonder about."

"But, I don't understand. Why did you send them?" Danny was genuinely confused. "Why not keep them, to help you remember?"

"They weren't mine to keep." Steve replied simply, tears still glossing over his flushe face, "I could never have those days with her again and it was my fault."

"No. Steve, it was Wo-"

"No! Don't you get it Danny? I was supposed to run that errand. I was the one who was supposed to go. But _No_!" Steve was spitting the words out, each filled with more venom than the last. "I was busy in the fucking bushes with my fucking best friend. My fucking best friend, _who was a guy_. Who treated me like a . . . a fucking leper after that. Do you see now, Danny? Do see? I did it. I'm the one. I killed my own mother!" Steve pulled his hand from Danny's and pushing his chair back stormed out onto the beach.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Well, this is it, I hope it works for you all. I fought this chapter a bit too much and I really don't feel as though I won, but with hope, I know I'll live to fight through many more chapters with these two. As always, this work is unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes rest fully upon my shoulders. A big hug and resounding "Thank You!" to everyone who read and took the time to review. It really did push me to finish this.

Disclaimer : The persons and characters within this fic belong to CBS and their holding companies. I have done this story for no profit and do not hope to gain any. The story title is from "Mad World as sung by Gary Jules. The chapter title is from "Better Together" by Jack Johnson.

**Chapter 8: Our Dreams, are Made Out of Real Things**

With the breeze ruffling his uncombed hair, Danny leaned against the support for the awning that shaded the lanai and took a tentative sip from his cup of steaming coffee. Squinting his eyes against the early morning glare that danced among the rippling water of the cove as it lapped against the beach behind the house, he felt his lips pulling into a satisfied smile.

How different a night makes, he thought lazily, as he remembered the roiling and splashing of the surf kicked up by his daughter from her position aloft Steve's broad shoulders and her mount didn't appear to be walking on water much either. They had been in a grudge match against Kono, herself held securely if not somewhat awkwardly on her cousin's back, as Chin attempted to get them close enough to dislodge the other duo in some weird Hawaiian version of a chicken fight. Danny had thought himself smart in his volunteering to start the grill. He had been in the water earlier and was feeling the redness that had overtaken his fair skin by that point.

He wrinkled his nose at the memory of being engulfed in a string of soggy, sandy hugs as his team and Gracie had come to the house to eat at his repeated beckoning. It was when he finally threatened to feed it to the neighbors' dog that they called a truce and headed for the house.

First was his monkey, churning up the sand with her tiny feet as she raced Chin in a game of 'last one is a rotten coconut'. She won, of course, with Chin displaying the most disturbing mock pout Danny had ever seen as she flung herself into his arms. Her hair had wrapped itself around his neck, like limp seaweed as her suit instantly dampened his tee shirt. Her high voice going on and on in his ear about her prowess in the chicken fight war and how Steve had said she was part dolphin. She was clutching a new shell in her small hand, waving it happily in front of his face.

Setting her down and shooing her to go get cleaned up; he stood only to be wrapped in a one-armed bro hug from the Hawaiian as he sniffed the air above the grill appreciatively before grabbing his towel and disappearing after her inside the dark house.

Danny pondered on his recollection of Chin's stone face that had seemed permanent during the Washui case. But the blinding smile from last night was causing the memory to fade out. He hoped, taking another sip of his coffee that it would disappear totally, never to return. Danny and Kono, both had been trying for days after they wrapped up the case to get Chin to at least lighten up a bit, to grin like he used to, but to no avail. Danny knew now that they both had thought themselves the right person for the job, but their attempts had brought only small quirks to the corners of Chin's lips on his otherwise stoic face.

It took a quiet conversation with Steve during a team rebuilding exercise, zip-lining on Maui, that brought relief to Chin's brow and he allowed his cheeks to lift his lips in a soft smile. Not privy to the conversation, Danny and Kono watched from a distance as the two men shook hands and then surprising no one, wrapped their arms briefly around one another. Kono's eyes shone with unshed tears as her high-wattage smile brought her dimples out in full force. Danny merely took a swipe at his own eyes as he gave a covering cough and feigned checking his harness.

Grinning at the memory, Danny stepped out away from the awning and felt the light heat of the early sun. Stooping, he picked up a purple hair-tie half buried in the sand. Kono's.

Kono had been the third to engulf Danny in watery hug last night. She had walked lightly yet surely up the beach, a limp that was hardly noticeable to anyone not in the know, giving away how much damage her lithe body had seen barely a month ago. Stepping up onto the Lanai she wrapped her sinewy arms around Danny's from behind and stretched gently around to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

Danny felt himself blushing now as he remember how she had whispered a quiet "Thank you" into his ear as she pecked him again on his neck below his pinking ears and went to find a drink in the kitchen. Somehow his brain argued with the 'thank you'. He had no recollection of doing anything to warrant it and if anything it was he who should be thanking her for not dying, for not quitting the team, for always trying as hard as she did, for being his friend, but he just bowed his head a bit and watched her glide away out of the corner of his eye.

She had come out of the hospital in a manner befitting the reputation she had earned by being a member of 5-0. She may have been severely injured and in an ungodly amount of pain when she was admitted, but she exited determined, as tough as any of her ancestors. She was a woman on a mission; a mission that made it difficult at times for the three men on the team to keep up with her as she pushed them as well as herself to the limit. She attended her physical therapy as prescribed and since she was still technically on desk duty at work; she had made her office into a mini gym complete with weights, resistance bands, and a great purple exercise ball. She would often cajole one of them, usually Steve, to go down to the basement gym to spar.

Twisting the hair-tie in his fingers he smiled as his brain compared it to Kono. It looked delicate, but wouldn't snap under the most extreme of pressures. He had been present when her mother and one of her uncle's had come to the offices, looking to convince her, yet again, to quit. Not only had she stood her ground without any of the rest of the team's help, but she did so with such grace and poise that when they left they shook everyone's hand, even Chin's. Pocketing the tiny band, Danny said a silent prayer of thanks for her continued well-being.

Walking barefoot through dewy grass not yet dried by the sun, Danny headed to the two beach chairs below the grass line on the beach. He and Steve had sat out here last night after he had taken Gracie back to Rachel's and talked over left over mango pudding. Danny sighed a loving sigh, as he envisioned how his partners' eyelashes had glittered in the setting sun. When he reached the chairs, he noted that the cooler had been emptied and the recycling was gone. Steve must have cleaned up sometime late last night or this morning, Danny thought quirking his lips into a wry smile. Fucking ninja.

Brushing his fingers across the tops of the slats that made up his chair, or rather the chair he nearly always claimed, Danny glanced into the horizon and tried to see the line between sea and sky. He always found it difficult to distinguish the exact spot when they touched. He knew it was there, just as he knew he was being obstinate in his continued search for it, he chuckled lightly at himself, but that didn't stop him from trying for several minutes. Turning he wandered back to the house in search of a refill of coffee.

The gulls wheeled overhead as he stepped beneath the awning and through the French doors into the kitchen. He paused and listened, but the house remained just as cool and silent as when he had first stepped outside. Steve must still be sleeping upstairs. Not wanting to disturb him, Danny poured himself another cup and went back out to witness the morning on the lanai.

Leaning his hip against the railing this time he turned and watched the neighbor's dog crashing into the surf after something florescent and orange. The trees prevented Danny from seeing who was doing the throwing, a fact that he really didn't mind. After a lifetime in New Jersey where even the bus drivers know your business and then apartment living here, Danny was happy for the privacy that he found here at Steve's. Especially since last night had been, well it had been amazing, if not a tad noisy.

Danny felt the warmth as it grew within him as he pictured how Steve's eye looked last night, so dark and absolutely mesmerizing, filled with longing and peace as his hands stuttered up Danny's forearms, tentative and shaking with desire. Danny looked down now at his arms, the soft blonde hairs gilded by the morning sun. He could still see Steve's hands on them, all the times those long fingers had caressed his skin, Danny watched as his hairs on his arms danced lightly above the rising goose bumps.

The first time had been the most innocent as it was part of the 'let's get Danny soaked' parade of hugs. Steve had been the last to drag himself up the beach from the horseplay in the ocean, he had stopped at the beach chairs to snag a worn green towel from the back of one; a habit that was probably a holdover from his morning swims, Danny surmised now. He brought his coffee to his lips, pausing as he remembered the feeling of absolute lust that had surged through his body as he watched Steve over Kono's shoulder rubbing the towel through his dark hair and down his chest before flipping it over his shoulder. Danny had turned to the grill then to make a show of flipping the foil packets of fish and poking the steaks. That was when Kono had ninja-hugged him and fled.

"_Smells good."_ Danny could hear the tone in Steve's voice even now. Last night he mistook it for appreciation, but upon retrospect it was more than that, _so_ much more.

"_Thanks. Should be done soon if you wan-"_ And that's when I made my mistake, Danny thought as he looked down into his half-full cup. Best fucking mistake of my life, he felt a sly smile crawling across his face. He had turned from the grill to find Steve right in front of him, a scant handful of inches away; Steve's eyes burning brightly as they roamed slowly over his body.

"_You're all wet."_ Steve had said quietly. Danny remembered how that voice had affected him last night; the same way the memory of it is affecting him now, with his blood warming and zinging through his veins, all of it racing to gather in one location.

"_It was . . . um, everybody."_ Danny had started, _" They . . . they all . . . uh, everybody . . . uh, hugged me." _Danny had ducked his head in embarrassment last night at his inability to string together a proper sentence. Now he merely smiled to himself at the memory. It had been like he was fifteen again and he was trying to ask Veronica Decarro to the fall formal.

"_I didn't."_ Steve's lust deepened voice had caused Danny's mind to go blank and if it hadn't, it would have as soon as he felt Steve's hand ghosting up his forearm; tracing the fading jagged scar from the raid weeks ago. _"I haven't hugged you. Not yet, at least."_

Setting his cup down on the ledge next to Gracie's new unbroken shell, Danny wrapped his hands loosely around the railing in front of him causing him to hunch slightly; the position gave him a bit of a respite at the growing problem in the loose, light cotton sleep pants he borrowed from Steve. He watched a sailboat beyond the break waters of the cove as it sailed across the horizon. Its sail appeared smooth in the distance, but the clip in which it moved through the water proved the wind speed to be steady and solid. Not unlike the beating of his partners' heart against his cheek this morning when he woke. He closed his eyes as the emotion of the moment flood through him.

He had leaned into the hug the previous evening and had reveled in the solidness of the body wrapped around him. He could feel the wetness from Steve's trunks soaking into his own board shorts. He had tried to place all the love he had for the SEAL into that embrace and he couldn't let go, for the life of him, he couldn't force himself into letting go. They clung to each other until his Monkey had run out and wrapped her arms around their waists, Danny had started to back away, but Steve reached down and pulled the little girl up onto his arm and then wrapped it around Danny again. Making her giggle and wiggle between the two men.

Steve had smoothed his nimble hands up Danny's arms the second time later that evening after everyone had left and the sun had set. They had come back in the house and Steve had guided Danny up the stairs. Remembering now how smooth the trip up to the master bedroom had been made Danny grin broadly. "Smooth Dog, indeed." He said quietly, chuckling to himself under his breath.

It was when Steve had pulled Danny on top of him as they fell onto the bed, that Steve glided his hands up his arms, provoking his muscles into flexing minutely under his prickling skin; their supporting strength diminishing easily and causing Danny to press himself down fully against the solid body beneath him. Danny flushed now at the memory of their lovemaking as he watched the sailboat glide out of view beyond the edge of the cove. How could Steve have ever doubted himself? Seriously?

"Hey." The voice startled him from his reverie as two large hands found his shoulders, calming him as they kneaded softly a few seconds before sliding down his biceps and past his elbows to his forearms. Danny closed his eyes at the sensation, leaning back in to the solid mass of Steve's broad chest.

"Morning." He could feel Steve's lips on the base of his neck, tongue dipping out to lick at the knob of his spine. Then the lips lightly brushed down his hairline and around his neck to suck softly behind his right ear. "Jesus. Steve, I . . ." Danny lost track of his thought as Steve rested his hands solidly above his own, trapping them against the flaking paint of the railing. He could feel the taller man not so subtly grinding against him as he tilted his head back to present more of his neck for Steve's searching mouth.

"Wondered where you got to. Woke up in the daylight. Woke up alone." Steve gave a brief open mouth kiss to punctuate each word; working his way up Danny's jaw. "Missed you." Danny barely had enough time to inhale before Steve's wandering lips found there final destination. He was beginning to feel lightheaded when his right hand was freed from beneath Steve's. Pulling away to catch his breath, he gasped as Steve's now empty hand swept down to clench at his hip before gliding forward to worry at the placket of the pajama pants, long fingers caressing, searching. "Missed all of you."

Reaching his free hand up, Danny threaded it into the short hairs at the back of Steve's head. "Steve." He could barely breathe. He could only concentrate on the double onslaught of Steve's hand and his lips. Gasping he breathed out the words that they both need to hear "You . . .never alone. I promise." Danny felt his other hand being freed as Steve's arm and his body wrapped around him, engulfing him, grounding him, surrounding him. "I . . . I love you, Steve . . . I . . .always."

Later, Danny would wonder if it was truly he who saved Steve as the SEAL kept saying or the other way around. Because he hadn't realized just how much time he was wasting not living his own life, until he witnessed Steve almost losing his. But right now Danny didn't waste a lot of time pondering this as Steve turned them and guided them back into the cool darkness of Steve's house.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~5*0~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

Leaving his eyes closed, Steve could feel the consciousness creeping slowly around inside his body until his nerves were singing beautifully with the sweetest of twitches just to be in harmony with the growing tension of muscles that had been lovingly abused. He could tell it was morning, from the warmth along the left side of his exposed torso to the growing pandemonium of the bird in the trees outside the open bedroom window. Well, that and he could smell freshly brewed ground Kona from downstairs.

For the first time in days . . . no, weeks . . . he wasn't ready to leave his bed in a hurry to start the day, just so he could reach the evening. Not because the world on a whole wasn't weighing heavily upon his very soul as it had been until very recently, but as a result of being able to release most of that burden. And that which he hadn't been able to shed yet, he had had help carrying. Steve had never been more thankful for his _ohana_ as he had been of late. And while this feeling of accepting help was mostly foreign to him, he was more than prepared to embrace it wholly.

Rolling to his right he drew the still warm, bunched up pillow next to him into his chest. Tilting his head slightly, Steve sniffed lightly, allowing the mixed scents of spicy soap, musk, sweat, faded fabric softener, and Danny to fill his nose. He felt a self-satisfied smile begin to grow across his lips. A couple of weeks ago, he would have never dreamed that he could be this contented or comfortable in a relationship. Hell, a little over a month ago, he wouldn't have believed that he could have _this_ or any other partnership. Ever.

Stretching his leg a bit more into a bed hogging sprawl, Steve let his mind wander back over the past five and a half weeks. The pain of the past hadn't diminished totally yet, it probably never will, he allowed with a small sigh. But he was learning ways to deal with it and to accept it for what it was. It had all _happened_, now it was up to him find a way to learn from his experiences and move on.

His memories of the events leading up to the confrontation on the beach with Danny, of his role in his mom's death were still somewhat blurry and stilted. He remembers most everything, but when he tried to talk to Danny about it, he realized that his sense of time and order were skewed. His confession on the other hand, has stayed with him with a crystal-like clarity, as had the moments after it.

"_No." Danny had let him pace the shoreline for a few minutes before storming down and gripping Steve's bruised shoulder in a brutal clamp of his small hand; forcing him down to sit in one of the beach chairs. "No. Do you hear me. Steve? No. That was not your fault. You did not kill your mother. K__oji Ishikawa and Hiro Noshimuri killed your mom. Not you. Do you get that, Steven?"_

The fire in Danny's eyes right then had stolen his voice, Steve remembered how he had tried to talk, how he had tried to argue, to convince Danny that he was wrong, but his mouth had just opened and shut repeatedly. Looking back on it now, Steve knew that the reason he wasn't able to debunk his friends' statement was because Danny was right.

"_And to believe that you are even partially to blame is just as ridiculous, so don't even try to come up with that argument. Seriously, Steve, you were sixteen. You were having fun. That's what sixteen year-olds do. They have fun. They tease and hide from their little sisters. I did. Hell, I'd still do it if any of my sisters lived close enough. Fuck." _Steve had thought that Danny had finished then because he had sank to his knees right next to his chair and was watching the slow waves rolling in. Steve caught Danny's hand fluttering slowly as if it were going to land on his thigh, but it slowly dropped down to his side instead. He recalled how much that hurt at the time. Thinking that Danny didn't want to touch him. How wrong he had been, Steve thought now.

"_Why did you stop taking them, babe? The Effexor? I know what it is. What it's for. So quit looking at me as though I'm talking out my ass. Did you think that you didn't need them anymore? That you were . . . I don't know what. . .healed, I guess?"_ Those questions, Steve recollected, had baffled him at the time. He hadn't known that Danny knew. He didn't remember telling him, nor even having them anywhere near his partner. _"If you need the pills, take them, Steve. It's better than . . ." _

Danny's voice had broke then, and that's when I saw him cry for the third time ever, Steve thought. The first had been for Meka after they had swum through nearly a case of beer, the second time had been during the fallout over his brother, Matt's betrayal and subsequent flight from justice. And the third time I ever saw Danny Williams cry, Steve thought sadly, subconsciously pulling the pillow tighter against his chest, was for me.

They sat there and stared out over the ocean, it's rippling waters glistening in the oncoming sunset. Danny eventually rose and pulled the other beach chair closer to Steve's, mirroring his earlier act on the lanai. Only this time he reached out and pulled Steve's hand into his lap.

"_Why won't you trust me, Steve? I want to help. You asked me to stay. To help. To not leave you alone. But you won't let me help you. And I want to, you know? There is nothing I want to do more than help you. I love you. _I love you_, Steve, let me in."_ Steve remembered staring at their joined hands and watching Danny's other hand coming up to stroke the back of Steve's. He had taken off the bandage and his wound was starting to heal. The jagged scar looked crude, but clean; the opaque floss nearly hidden among the fine hairs along forearm. He concentrated on that cut so as not to have to look up and actually see the pity in Danny's face, he could acknowledge that to himself now.

Steve rolled to his back again, letting the memories wash over him; filling him with emotion, as many good as bad. That had been the first time that Danny had said that he loved him, Steve was glad that he could recall it with such vivid detail; just as he could, later that same night, before they headed upstairs to bed, when Danny confessed having feelings for him 'And not of the brotherly kind.'

Steve had finally broken and Danny had sat there, patiently through it all, as he spoke of the loneliness of being sent away, of missing so much time with Mary that it seemed as if they hardly knew one another, of how his dad's years of sporadic contact made him fear that his dad had known about he and Paul. Steve had gone on and on about how he would never allow himself to become friends with any of his fellow naval men or SEALs for fear he would develop crushes on them. Hell, Danny's face become incredulous when Steve alluded to and then elaborated on his last trip to Kaipo's a few nights ago.

The sun was filling the window now. The salty breeze seemed to caress his bare chest. Taking a few deep breaths, Steve knew he should get up and see if Danny was still there, but his therapist had told him to try not to stifle any memories, but rather think them through if he could and figure out why they affect him so. Lately, most of his memories were filled with a certain blonde. Just that thought alone warmed him more than the morning sun.

He smiled at the memory of how Danny's face had mirrored whatever emotion the stories had brought to Steve's voice that night. His eyes were shadowed above his downturned lips when Steve had told him about being too scared of being found out when he tried to gather the nerve to walk into a gay club in London. He scowled and blew out a hard breath as Steve told him about how Paul had shunned him and his letters to his friend from the mainland were returned, unopened.

Steve's favorite expression was the slow, hopeful raising of Danny's mouth and crinkling lines around his eyes, deepening. It had arrived late in the evening, when as they prepared to turn in, that Steve had told Danny, with a small quirk of his eyebrow, that he was the closest thing to a brother he had, but that he was _very happy_ they _weren't_ related. That's when he said it again - 'I love you', Steve thought happily. It was also the first time that Danny gave him a timid kiss on the cheek and then offered up his hand for Steve to cling to in bed. An occurrence that has become more of a tradition on the nights that Danny stayed over in his bed, one Steve hoped would never go away. Stretching one last leisurely time, Steve gave a soft grunt as he pulled himself from the bed.

Steve stared in the mirror above the vanity in the bathroom. He had finally lost the sallow pallor his skin had taken on during the Washui case. Gone too, were the dark stains beneath his eyes and the mottled bruises that once stole over nearly a third of his body. Loading his toothbrush, he set to work giving his teeth a good cleaning, before he reached back and started the shower.

He thought about shaving, but Danny, blushing, had told him that he liked the burn it gave him when they kissed. It was still a rush of excitement, every time he learned something new about Danny. He felt foolish sometimes, like a nervous teenager, but Danny understood, and gently offered up his own uncertainties as a way to level the playing field.

Steve assessed his chin; maybe I'll wait another day or two. He grinned at his own cheek and watched it turn into a full-fledged smile at the reflection of the new shower curtain behind him. Pink octopi, blue seals, purple dolphins and yellow starfish all stared back, with goofy grins and wide smiling eyes. Grace had gone shopping with them.

Stepping into the shower, Steve was thankful that it was Saturday. They had two whole days ahead of them. Hopefully an encore of last nights' sensuous lovemaking was in the cards, Steve grinned slyly to himself, I'll make sure it does, he thought.

They had had the team and Gracie over yesterday after work, for fun in the sun and a barbeque, before she left for a three day weekend in San Francisco with Rachel and Stan. They had spent the afternoon in the water, Steve and Chin on surfboards, while Kono, still healing had given Gracie boogie boarding lessons. Danny had paced the beach, before being tugged into the surf by his little girl. Plus, there was a chicken fight that left Steve feeling like a kid again. 'Making up for lost time.' He allowed the thought to cement itself in his mind, before resuming his original train of thought.

It was great that the team was coming together again. Steve had dealt with an awesome amount of guilt over the initial fracture, but the other three, plus his therapist had convinced him that he needn't take on the entire blame. He had begun meeting with someone after much coaxing from his partner. At first Steve had declined all offers from Danny, such as he would pay for it or he would go with him. Hell, Danny even offered to hold his hand, if Steve wanted him to. In the end, it was the governor, who insisted. Steve scrubbed some of Danny's shampoo into his hair and slowly worked up lather.

Governor Jameson had finally come to terms with the idea that Mr. Washui's son was a miscreant and that Mr. Washui was an ass. She didn't know what it was that troubled him or the others, but in the interest of having 5-0 be a well-oiled machine. She stood them down for the rest of the week and demand psych evaluations from them all. Steve had chosen a military therapist, as some of his issues were classified, but even with Don't Ask, Don't Tell being repealed, he didn't feel comfortable talking about Paul, his fears of lusting for a man, his desires, and loving Danny. So, after he was cleared for duty, he and Danny had selected a kindly, older Hawaiian woman from the private sector to continue pulling away at the fragile cocoon Steve's mind had built for him to hide in.

Melelani, as she declined to be addressed by her formal name, helped Steve to understand that very little, if any, of the blame for his mother's death lay at his feet. She also re-prescribed a different type of anti-depressants, which he hated taking, but did so to please Danny. Melelani explained that once he worked through his feelings on his trigger topics, then he could come off of them slowly. She promised and all Steve could do, was have faith that she wasn't lying to him. He picked up the soap from the tray and began scrubbing down his entire body. With all the headway being made, he felt optimistic, but there was still so much to figure out. Like his life with Danny and what it meant to an, until recently, solitary man.

In the past six weeks, he had tried to be more careful on the job, mostly because he wanted to spend less time healing and more time on the sofa with Danny, making out like horny teenagers. Steve felt his cheeks warming at the thought of the number of hours he has spent recently just doing that. Danny was playful and exciting when it came to ratcheting up the intenseness of their kisses. He was exasperatingly slow and evil, when Steve pushed for too much too fast.

Danny has proven that his same tendencies that made him an excellent, if not annoying, professional partner for Steve, also translated to their private lives. Where Steve wanted to surge forth and tag every possible romantic situation in one night, tact and stamina be damned; Danny was more cautious, examining Steve with appraising eyes and then slowing him down with several well-placed kisses and soft caresses. He reminded Steve that he was afloat in the same boat in the waters of gay relationships and that they needed to take it slow and savor the experience. Steve knew he was right, well mostly right, but that didn't stop the need to -. Damn, he had it bad. He reached down and palmed his growing erection, trying to alleviate the need coursing through his body.

Steve stepped back under the soothing spray to rinse the soap from his body. His hand caught lightly at the puckering scar on his hip. It had finally healed, but the skin was glossy and raised up in some spots while rough and flat in others. Touching it now, brought back the myriad of feelings of the many times Danny's fingers had ghosted over the tender skin. From that first night under the towel, when he was helping Steve to dress after his shower, to the many times later he rubbed antibiotic crème in torn slowly healing flesh. And then again last night, as Danny's dainty yet callused hand had gripped it, steadying him as he fulfilled so many of Steve's dreams and desires.

Hit off the shower tap, Steve stepped from the tub, one of his big feet landing on the grinning dolphin on the matching shower mat. Pulling a towel from the bar behind the door, he gave himself a brisk, reinvigorating rub down. Tossing the towel on the counter, he grabbed the clean boxer briefs from the vanity top and as he stepped in, he felt a plan forming in his mind. Time to get some of that coffee and then he was going to find his partner. His friend. His lover. His savior. His Danny. Hell, he thought heading to the top of the stairs, who needs coffee.


	9. Epilogue

_Two months later still_

"You could have called, you know. Let a guy know that he's going to have company." Steve shot a pointed look at his passenger as he wheeled the truck onto the highway and towards home. "I could have done some shopping, got some food."

"I did call." His sister replied with a roll of her eyes. "Why else would you know to pick me up at the airport? Besides, like you would have gone to a grocery store anyway."

"Mary . . ." It wasn't that Steve wasn't happy to see her. No, she's the last of his family, so of course he was happy. It was just that the timing was a bit off. "There's, um, something . . . Wait! Why are you even here?"

"Wow, nice. Be a douche, why don't ya. Fine. Turn around and take me back, if you want. I just thought it would be nice to visit. You know how that goes right. You get vacation time at work and think to yourself, '_Self, I want to go some place nice. Some place with beaches and sun and surfing_.' But then you argue back _'No, you should visit your brother. You haven't seen him in_ such _a long time_.' Luck for me I get to do both." She crossed her arms over her chest and cast a pout towards Steve. "But you can drop me back at the airport, since you've apparently claimed all of Hawaii in the name of Steven J. McGarrett, Douche Extraordinaire."

"You know that's not what I meant, Mare. I'm happy to see you. I'm always glad to see you, you know that. I just wasn't expecting to, is all." Steve tried his best to achieve a pacifying tone even though he knew he didn't sound pacifying at all. But it was okay, he thought, she's not really mad either. "So how long you got? For vacation that is. It is only a vacation right?" He winced at the way the words sounded coming out of his mouth. Well, if she wasn't mad before . . .

He drove the rest of the way back to the house in silence, with his sister right beside him explaining to him just how much of an unmitigated ass he truly was. It was good to see her again, he thought, turning onto Pi'ikoi Street.

"Steve? " Steve looked up from the text he was typing to Danny explaining their unexpected houseguest, as he walked slowly towards the house. Shit, his mind raced, her room. "STEVE!" He was already jogging towards the door.

He skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs. Mary was standing in the doorway to what had been her room as a child. She pivoted to glare at him, raising an eyebrow. "Care to explain, big bro? Where's all my stuff?" She swept an arm out in elaboration.

"Mary. Um, your stuff? By that you mean the crazy, old New Kids poster or the broken banana chair that would tip you out the minute you sat in it? Come on, Mare, you didn't think that stuff was actually wor-"

"Worth keeping? Is that what you were going to say? Yes, Steve, I did think that stuff was worth keeping. It was my stuff." She dropped her bag and shoved her hands onto her hips, elbows akimbo. "How would you like it if I went into your room and moved around all your . . . all your trophies? Huh, Steve? And why does my room look like Vegas was successful in their bid to overthrow Sea World? Is that a pink seal?" she asked eyeing an enormous stuffed animal taking up the entire space between the windows.

"It's for . . . I did it for . . . for Grace. For when she comes to visit." Steve could feel weeks of therapy coming into play right about then. Things had been going well. The team was successful, healthy and happy. He was coming to grips with his past and could feel the painful guilt loosening its hold on him. Hell, he and Danny's relationship, while still in the honeymoon phase, was strong, and getting stronger every day. Fuck. He had to still explain about Danny.

"Grace? Your partner's daughter, Grace? What are you like, suddenly her godfather or something? And why not use your room? Huh?" She whipped around, turning her back on the room filled with every kind of loveable sea creature of frolicking amidst the backdrop of frothy blue walls. He was proud of the cozy grotto he and his team had created for the little girl. Steve felt his shoulders connect with the wall as Mary nudged past him on her way to his room. She stopped short and turned to face him, an exaggerated 'o' graced her lips. "What the hell?" she asked quietly, when she could find her voice.

Steve slowly sucked in a breath and counted to ten.

"Are you a Buddhist now? Can killer SEALs even be Buddhist? Steve, are you not telling me something?" Her voice had gone a bit softer now, gone too, was the fiery light in her eyes. "You okay? Steve?" She stretched a hand out towards him.

"Mare . . ." he started, but was at a loss of where to even begin. He had made some drastic changes to his home and to his life in the past five or so months, all without keeping his sister in the loop. Walking slowly towards her, he wrapped his hand around hers and glanced into the room. She looked him several moments before letting her eyes drift back in to the room. They had cleared the room to make it into a study for when they brought cases home. Steve, along with Danny's help, had boxed up most of the trophies and other debris left over from his overachieving youth and schlepped it up to the attic to reside with all of Mary's belongings. The bed had been painted white and moved to Grace's new room along with the nightstand. The rest of the furniture was setting out in the garage, except the mirror. It had gone to the trash bin.

But after a couple of weeks of torturous therapy sessions, Danny would find Steve in here, flat on his back, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars they had forgotten to remove. It was his own personal haven now. A place he could retreat to when the memories got to be too much.

Looking around the room now, Steve tried to see it as Mary did. The walls, a soft green were bare with a few exceptions. A small collage of framed pictures of the McGarrett family was on the wall next to the door and the framed poster of the wave was moved to hang between the windows. The hardwood floor had been refinished and gleamed in the afternoon sun. A rolled up yoga mat was next to a fairly good size pile of pillows and cushions in the far corner. And that was it. He would occasionally bring in the portable CD player, but not often. He preferred the silence.

"Mary." He waited until she looked up at him again. "I can explain. I _will_ explain, but let's go downstairs, okay? Get something to drink, yeah?" He pulled gently on her hand until she followed him down the stairs.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~5*0~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

"Babe?" Danny called out as he pushed his way into the house with his hip as he balanced a twelve pack and a bag of produce he had picked up at the roadside market on the way home in his arms. He was thinking kabobs and beer as a way to celebrate their rather quiet week. Steve had left after lunch to go to his therapy session. Danny knew he wouldn't see him again, until after work.

The first few times that he had gone without Danny, Danny had paced the office when he hadn't heard from him. But he would eventually always find him in the same place; at home, lying on the floor in the room that had once been his boyhood room. "I got some good deals at the veggie stand. I'm thinking kabobs." When he didn't get an answer he left the items on the counter and started up the stairs. "Steve?"

After peeking into the studio, as he had taken to calling his partners' place of refuge and the master bedroom, he felt a frown growing at their emptiness. It was when he turned and spotted the small unmatched set of bags beside the door to Gracie's room that it turned into a slightly pained grimace. Oh no, he thought, hurrying down the stairs. Mary. It wasn't her being there that bothered him, but the repercussions it could have on his lover.

He glanced into the ground floor rooms, but didn't spot either a dark head or a dirty blonde one. Entering the kitchen again, he glanced out the window above the sink to see if they were out on the shore, but again came up empty. He took a steadying breath and pulled the curtain aside on one of the French doors to the lanai. He didn't want to surprise them. Nope, he though, concern growing exponentially within his chest. He opened the door and stepped out, eyes darting about trying to find any clue to the missing siblings.

He was beginning to step off the deck into the grass when his blue eyes finally landed on a pair of shoes, two pair, in fact. It was the glass baubles on the straps of the tan sandals in the early evening sun that caught his eye. The flip flips were resting casually against Steve's size twelve boots, themselves properly lined up. They were both near the edge of the lawn, by the 'Ōhi'a lehua trees where Steve had had his first experience with another boy.

Danny sucked in a huge breath of air. He didn't want to bother them, but he was at a loss of what to do to make this easier on everybody. In the end he just went back in the house, opened a beer, and started dinner. His part in all of this would come soon enough.

Danny was sitting on the lanai drinking a Fire Rock, when he heard rustling from the bushes off to his right. He rose and started the barbeque. He watched as first a blonde head popped out, followed by the darker one of his boyfriend.

"Hungry? I'm making kabobs." He called out as Steve passed his sister her shoes and then picked up his boots. "And there's beer in the cooler."

He watched as Mary walked quickly towards him. Feeling a bit of overwhelmed at the intense look in her eyes as she stepped onto the lanai, Danny steeled himself for the unknown. He had never known her to be violent or even exceedingly angry, but then again he didn't know her that well. "Hey, Mary. I didn't know you were on the islan-" He was cut off by one of tightest hugs he had ever endured . . . and he was from Jersey.

He wrapped his arms, tentatively at first and then more solidly around the smaller woman. As he did he glanced up into the face of his partner. Steve's eyes had been ravaged by tears sometime in the ordeal this afternoon, leaving them rimmed red and bloodshot, but their appearance were overshadowed by the soft and beguiling smile gracing his lips. Danny felt as much as heard the woman in his arms, as she hiccupped a 'thank you'. He smoothed a hand up and down her spine, never taking his eyes off of Steve.

Stepping up behind Mary, Steve wrapped his long arms around his sister and his lover. He dropped a small kiss to the crown of Mary's head and then he whispered "Love you" in his ear before his lips brushed gently, lovingly against Danny's. "Thanks. Kebob's sound great."


End file.
